Enemies of the Heiress, Beware
by Sue-Drae
Summary: Back for her second year, Cor is faced with the normal second year problems- difficult exams, a rubbish History professor, an even more rubbish DADA professor, and being branded the heir of Slytherin. With a monster on the loose and all the signs pointing to the Slytherin seeker, will her Corps remain strong against the tide or crumble from within? Book 2-centric, Slytherin!OC
1. Chapter 1

"Door!" I called over my shoulder at the chime, knowing that Naia would hear and answer accordingly. I would have gotten up to answer it myself but, at the moment, I was a little... preoccupied.

"Daph and Neville are supposed to be getting here today, right?" Blaise asked around a yawn, not even glancing up from the star charts spread out in front of him. "That's probably them at the door."

"Probably... Oh, I really wish we knew who the DADA professor is going to be... It's a bit hard to prepare notes without already having the curriculum approved," Hermione frowned distastefully. I sighed, pushing away _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _for _Intermediate Transfiguration_.

The four of us- Ron, Blaise, Hermione, and I- were spread out in the reception room, each claiming a different couch or coffee table to do our work on. We'd already finished all of our summer work ages ago and spent a fair deal of time reviewing the basic spells that we'd learned in class and individually, leaving us free time now to resume work on the Corps-iculum.

"We can take care of that once Harry gets here. For now, were Bass' History notes any good?" I asked around a yawn. In preparation for any practical magic, Hermione and I had decided that it would be a good idea to get the theoretical notes out of the way. So far we had finished revising all of our notes for the first year curriculum but we were barely done with the first term of second year and only had miscellaneous notes for other years. We had also restructured the Corps-iculum a little better so that we could plan ahead better. By dividing up the electives in advance, we ensured that the workload would be mostly balanced. Neville would focus on Herbology but take up Care of Magical Creatures as one of his electives; I would write notes for Potions and Transfiguration with my elective Arithmancy; Daphne would help me with Transfiguration while writing for Charms; Blaise would work on Astronomy and later Divination; Harry would put all of his attention towards Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes; Hermione would continue to write notes for History of Magic, expanding into Study of Ancient Runes; and lastly Ron, who had the arguably easiest task, would take Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies.

"More helpful than not having anything," Hermione commented, tracing a finger under a line of text before returning her attention to her parchment, pen moving furiously.

Pens were a magnificent invention. As a pureblood, I had no idea why the wizarding world didn't embrace some Muggle creations already. When Hermione had pulled out the writing tools, I had honestly been fascinated by what she told me was a very common-place invention. Highlighters were even better. And loose leaf paper? Oh, Muggles could be absolutely brilliant if they set their minds to it.

"Daphne Greengrass and Neville Longbottom to see you, young miss," Naia announced from the door. I looked up, turning towards the door with a grin on my face and, despite the books and loose leaf that rained down on the floor and table, jumped to my feet to give my friends a tight hug.

"Oh, I'm so happy you two could make it," I said honestly. We'd been trying to limit the practical side of learning magic largely because we had been missing so many of our members. At this point, with only Harry missing, we were ready to start. "First things first! I think it's time for a break for lunch. I'll show you two where you'll be staying and give you the tour. Hermione, Ron, Blaise, you three can go see about lunch. Meet in the kitchen in fifteen minutes?"

"Sounds like a plan," Blaise nodded.

"Finally! I'm starving," Ron groaned, shoving aside the Muggle Studies textbook for third year- which Hermione had already gone through and edited for accuracy, all the while looking thoroughly scandalized- as he rose to his feet, stretching. With a grin, Blaise threw an arm over his shoulders.

"Aw, is Ickle Ronnikins hungry?" he asked with a pout. With an infuriated roar, Ron all but tackled the Slytherin to the ground in good fun.

"Honestly... Don't make me hex you six ways to Sunday, the both of you," I threatened semi-seriously, reaching for my wand. The two scrambled apart, both protesting.

"Just joking around! No need; we're good!"

"Boys," Hermione grumbled as she carefully bookmarked her page and stood like a civilized person. Rolling her tense shoulders as she walked, she grabbed both Ron and Blaise by the wrist and dragged them towards the door. "We'll be in the kitchen! It was nice to see you guys again!"

"Does Hermione seem... different to either of you?" Neville asked Daphne and I nervously once Hermione and the other boys had vanished down the stairs.

"I may have been teaching her a thing or two," I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. I couldn't hide a small smile though.

Hermione was always curious so I really shouldn't have been surprised when she approached me with questions about the wizarding world. When I realized ten or fifteen questions in that she wasn't going to be satisfied that easily, I had started semi-formally training her as I had been by my mother. It had been exhausting work on both of our parts but, less than two months after we had begun, Hermione was perfectly able to carry herself in wizarding society almost as easily as if she'd been born into it. If not for her blood status, she could have easily been betrothal contract material. With social graces came confidence, making her a formidable opponent and an even better ally.

"I think you've created a monster," Daphne joked, glancing back at the empty hall. "I'm glad that I'm on her good side."

"Me too," Neville said with a nervous laugh.

* * *

"This one looks useful," Daphne murmured over her textbook. "The disarming charm, Expelliarmus. _The Disarming Charm lies at the heart of a good dueling technique. It allows the duelist to rebound an opponent's spell in the hope that the rebounded spell will strike the opponent and leave him or her vulnerable to further attack..._" she read aloud.

"Write it on the list," I said with a nod at the growing list of spells, charms, and potions hanging up above the fireplace. While we would make sure to make notes for all of the lessons we found with the completed syllabus- it was so convenient that Daphne's father was on the Board of Governors- it made our private study easier to have a prioritized list of things for us to focus on.

I was resuming rereading and simplifying the directions to crafting a wiggenweld potion when my mirror, sitting in front of me on my table, began shaking violently. Setting my book aside, I picked up the mirror, exchanging a glance with the other Corps members.

"Cor answering," I said to it. The mirror shuddered, my reflection twisting and shifting until I was staring at a familiar pair of green eyes. "Hey, Harry. Can't take it anymore?"

"Is that a question?" Harry asked dryly. I glanced to the calendar before nodding appreciatively.

"Two weeks and one day with the Dursleys. That is impressive," I commented, closing my potions textbook. "Did you pack all of your stuff?"

"I didn't get to _un_pack it. As soon as I got back, Vernon threw all of my stuff in a cupboard and locked the door," Harry reported sadly. He turned the mirror so, instead of seeing his face, I could see Hedwig's cage. A large padlock was placed on the door, trapping the beautiful owl inside. He turned the mirror back to face him, a frustrated look in his eyes. "How am I supposed to be useful if I can't even look at a book?"

"Don't worry, Harry. Naia and I will be there in just a few minutes. Did you tell your family that you wouldn't be spending the full summer with them?"

"Yeah. They keep asking me when I'm leaving," Harry chuckled humorlessly.

"Well, tell them that your ride is on the way. I'll be at your door in ten minutes. I've got to change my clothes."

"Why?" Ron asked from his place on the couch, looking me over with a frown. "You look fine."

"I'll explain later. Harry, tell your uncle that he better be on his best behavior because the heiress to one of the largest fortunes in Great Britain is deigning to come to his house." Harry grinned as understanding sparkled in his eyes. With a goodbye, I shook the mirror and the connection broke. When the silver reflected my own face once more, I slipped the mirror back into my pocket.

"Daphne, can you help me get ready?" I asked. With a bright smile, Daphne ditched her books.

"I thought you'd never ask," she joked. Then, on a more serious tone as we left towards the stairs, she added, "Just remember, you asked for it."

I resisted the urge to groan.

* * *

True to my word, I was at the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive in ten minutes. Instead of the comfortable jeans and t-shirt I'd been wearing, I was in full heiress mode. With Daphne's expert help, I had squirmed my way into a more formal black dress and white-edged blazer. My hair had been left loose to fall in gentle ringlets past my shoulder blades, the only thing keeping it out of my face being a silver circlet designed to resembled a single, delicate ivy vine. With emerald studs in my ears and a silver necklace carefully crafted to resemble an ouroboros, my Hogwarts house was represented but my familial house was recognizable by the ring on my right middle finger.

By tradition, most of the older families have a gold ring to represent the head of the house and a silver ring to identify the heir or heiress. As heiress to the matriarchal Wyncrest family, I was given my ring as a birthday present after I started Hogwarts. Charmed to fit the finger of its current wearer, the ring- resembling a honeysuckle vine- twined carefully around my finger, sprouting tiny blossoms represented by yellow diamonds laid into the silver. At the end, the vine curled together to form the base for a final flower but, instead of a larger blossom, the Wyncrest family crest was molded into the silver.

Straightening my back, I raised my clenched fist and knock on the door twice.

The door was all but flung open within twenty seconds.

"May I help you?" It was that woman, Harry's aunt. I strained to remember her name but I could only recall the uncle's name. Even so, I smiled politely.

"I believe so. I am Corinne of the Ancient and Noble House of Wyncrest. May I come in?" I asked though I'm sure that the woman didn't mistake courtesy for license. It wasn't exactly a question.

"O- Of course," she said, stepping aside to let me inside her home. As I walked through the entrance hall, I could plainly see a padlock on the cupboard under the stairs. Mrs. Dursley fidgeted as she lead me to the sitting room, offering me a place to sit and a cup of tea. I declined both. "It's an honor to have you here."

Oh, flattery.

"Mrs. Dursley, I do appreciate your attempts but I am not here for flattery. Could you kindly ascertain whether Harry Potter is ready for departure?"

"_-What she is! You are not leaving this house!_" Yelling came from upstairs and I raised an eyebrow curiously, looking to Mrs. Dursley incredulously before walking slowly out of the sitting room despite the woman's protestations. Picking her poison, the woman joined me at the foot of the stairs, smoothing her hair back anxiously before raising her voice to try and shout over her husband as he continued roaring at who I assumed to be Harry.

"Vernon, dear, we have company!" she called, a nervous laugh edging her voice. Vernon's shouting cut off abruptly and, with a series of noises comparable to a stampede, the man suddenly appeared very red in the face and out of breath at the top of the stairs.

"Miss-"

"Lady Wyncrest," I interrupted coolly, narrowing my eyes at the man. "Mr. Dursley, I assure you that, despite my wealth and influence, I am indeed a twelve year old with all of the patience of a child. Kindly allow Mr. Potter to retrieve all of his belongings, including those you callously locked away, and we shall be on our merry way." Vernon grew almost purple at that, his finger raising threateningly.

"You have no ri-"

"Oh, I assure you that I have every right. In fact, I have many more rights than you in regards to Mr. Potter." At that, I drew my wand, pointing it towards the Muggle almost lazily. "I do not enjoy repeating myself, Mr. Dursley, but I will if I must."

There was a moment of silence before Vernon glared off to his side.

"Boy!" he yelled. "Get yourself downstairs! The sooner I'm rid of you, the better!"

Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, Hedwig's locked cage in his arms, and flew down faster than his Nimbus 2000. Vernon stomped after him and, after much shuffling, unlocked the cupboard.

"Wonderful. Was that so hard, Mr. Dursley?" I asked pleasantly. I couldn't see Harry's face as he fished out his trunk but, judging by the shaking of his shoulders, he was fighting back laughter as Vernon made an odd growling noise and stalked into the sitting room, his wife timidly fluttering behind him.

"That was absolutely brilliant," Harry breathed to me as I took Hedwig's cage from him, the owl chuffing at me happily, apparently understanding what had just taken place. "Fantastic."

"Oh, I know," I said back just as quietly. "Naia."

With an almost silent _snap_, the house elf appeared in front of me, a soft smile on her face.

"The young miss called?"

"Yes, Naia. Can you please bring Harry's things to the house and then come back to get us?"

"Of course, young miss," she said with a happy smile. As she moved to take Harry's things, she was forced to stop when Harry pulled back, looking at me worriedly.

"Won't the Ministry sense her magic and think it's mine?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Most house elf magic doesn't register on the same level unless they want it to. That's why I could get here without being noticed. Naia brought me here through their equivalent of apparation. She can come and go as she pleases."

"Oh... I guess that makes sense," Harry said, allowing Naia to take his trunk. His eyes didn't show much confidence in his words but I let it slide.

"Thank you, Naia."

"I'm always happy to serve the young miss," Naia replied, her smile was a bit brighter before she vanished with a snap. Before she reappeared, I walked to stand in the doorway to the sitting room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I'm honestly quite ashamed with your behavior. I sincerely hope that, should we ever meet again, you will have seen the error of your ways. Harry Potter is an excellent friend and ally of mine and, should I discover that your treatment of him has not improved... Well. The results will likely not be to your taste. Good day."

I turned on my heel and walked back to where Harry stood at the front door, desperately trying to hold back a laugh. It was only when Naia returned and took us back to the reception room at Palace Street that he could even breathe safely.

"That was incredible!" Harry cheered when he had stopped laughing long enough to form words, tears in his eyes as he hugged his stomach. "The look on his stupid face- I just-"

"I _was_ going to ask how it went but I guess I don't have to. Glad you two went and had fun without me," Blaise chuckled, glancing up from his star charts. "Also, Cor, Divination is all waffle. Nothing makes a shred of sense."

"Well, that can't be helped. Luckily, I don't think anyone looking to take Divination is taking it for anything but an easy grade. You should be fine writing out the basic steps on different divining methods."

"Oh, for Harry," Hermione said happily, passing a thick manilla folder to the recent arrival. "Straight from the Board of Governors, thanks to Lord Greengrass. The owl just dropped it off."

"You got the syllabus?" I asked, intercepting the folder and flicking it open to the cover page. The name on it was less than satisfactory, though, and I bit back a groan. "Wonderful. And I was hoping for a proper DADA professor."

"Who is it?" Harry asked.

"Cor, it's _Gilderoy Lockhart_. How much more proper can a professor get?" Hermione asked dreamily. I scowled, snapping the folder shut and lightly smacking her on the back of the head with it.

"He's an _author_, Hermione. He doesn't _do_, he writes. I can write something fabulous and call it non-fiction too."

"You're saying he's a fake?" Neville asked disappointedly. "Gran's gonna be a wreck... She loves him."

"He is a fake. One of his books was centered around the discovery of a potions-smuggling ring operating out of Holland. He claims in his book that he was the one to discover the black market dealers who were supplying them with acromantula eggs."

"So you're saying that _Smitten with Smugglers_ was a farce?" Hermione asked almost scathingly. I raised an eyebrow at the venom in her words. "On what evidence?"

"On the evidence that it was my cousin, Francis Howlett, that traced the discarded portkey back from Holland, to London, then to Borneo. Curiously enough, Frank can hardly remember his own name now. Someone used a very powerful memory charm on him shortly after the incident, five months before _Smitten with Smugglers_ was published. What's even more curious is that Gilderoy Lockhart received special accolades in school because of the potency of his memory charm. Luckily, Frank kept very diligent notes on the entire event, notes that are currently in Ministry custody as evidence in a case against Lockhart for fraud."

Lockhart was a touchy subject for my family, if it wasn't obvious.

"I'm telling you. He's going to be a rubbish teacher," I warned. "Harry, if you need help with the DADA notes, I can help you. I've already finished the year for Potions and Transfiguration is halfway done."

"Already?" Ron asked, wide eyed. "I'm barely into chapter seven for Care!"

"Corinne's family has a special place in their hearts for potions. You learn to deal with it," Daphne said with a dry smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the summer passed by in a similar fashion. The focus list in the reception room grew and shrank as we pushed through the second year and, in a few courses, third year curriculum in our note-taking. Every now and then the endless practice got to be too much and, stir crazy, the seven of us had escaped onto the streets of London. We went to museums, zoos, different Muggle and wizarding monuments, anywhere we wanted. We took off for birthdays, letting Blaise, Neville, and then Harry decide what we would do for the day. I don't think I'd ever seen anyone appreciate a birthday cake as much as Harry when he spotted the messy red and gold snitch cake Hermione had thrown together in an attempt at domestic spellwork.

The end of August came around too early for anyone's taste but we could all agree that we would start the year more than prepared. Well, we weren't quite prepared without one last trip into Diagon Alley.

Who would have guess that Gilderoy Lockhart, arrogant narcissist that he was, would set seven of his books as textbooks for his class?

I was more than pleased to arrive as late as we did at Flourish and Blotts, which had been the absolute last article on our itinerary. Though it hadn't exactly been a plan of mine, I was not disappointed to hear that Gilderoy Lockhart had been at the bookstore until nearly five o'clock signing books and taking pictures. With Lockhart gone, there were no middle aged witches fluttering about the store and slowing us down any more than necessary as we tracked down our books. It also meant that there was much less attention on me as I all but bullied Ron into letting me buy his books, telling him that he could pay me back later. Of course I'd reject it, but he could always cash in a reasonable favor if he cared to. I wasn't going to let a fraud like Lockhart financially ruin a good and decent family because he's selfish.

For the last day before term, Sebastian and our parents were back in town. Despite his exhaustion at the long journey- apparently it had been three portkeys involving Customs at every stop- Bass was full to bursting with stories about his time in the States. As he relayed aspects of his trip there and the various summer courses he'd taken, I couldn't blame him for his enthusiasm.

As far as education goes on an international level, the United States had Great Britain thoroughly beat. Instead of choosing classes as you went like we did at Hogwarts, schools in America compared more closely to a university. Students there were educated earlier, starting at age eight, and by the time they were fourteen they were expected to choose a few different career paths that they could pursue through classes lending directly to those fields. While he'd been there, Sebastian participated in a sort of crash course for the American Ministry equivalent of Aurors, lovingly referred to as the Wizard Cops. He'd gone through intensive training both physically and mentally that, according to the numbers, caused mental breakdowns in almost forty percent of recruits. The survivors of the ridiculous training were the best of the best, however, and the United States was one of the safest countries, at least magically, despite its size thanks to its selective military police.

When Sebastian finally calmed down enough to ask us how our summer went, I was happy to announce that we had something tangible to show him. As he went over the finished notes for first and second year, leafing through the temporarily incomplete notes for third and fourth year, I allowed myself to bask in the warmth of his proud smile.

"I've got to say, Cor," he said as he lowered the last of the third year potions material, which I had only just begun. "I didn't think that this group would be good for anything. You're playing the game better than me."

"Thank you, Sebastian... It means a lot," I smiled warmly. It truly did. I could deal with Damien being against me so long as Sebastian and my Corps was at my side.

* * *

With all of our last minute preparations seen to, the Corps was ready to leave Palace Street in time for a leisurely stroll to Victoria station to catch the Underground, with our luggage nicely stowed away thanks to a few well-practiced shrinking charms, to King's Cross St. Pancras station. All in all, no wrestling with luggage, no odd looks from the Muggle populace, and no hassle.

Getting onto the platform had been a bit trickier, I'll admit. For some reason, when Harry and I tried to get through the portal, the brick wall had been just that: a brick wall. It really made no sense; we'd come with plenty of extra time and it wasn't like there was any reason for the portal itself to not work for us. Stepping off to the side and calling Naia, however embarrassing it was for so small a task as taking us onto the platform when we were just yards from it, was the simplest solution and easily accomplished.

I love when plans go accordingly.

* * *

I really loved being the rallying point for Slytherin. Even after a whole summer of being away, it felt good to see that my house didn't forget that I had brought it home last year. We won the Quidditch cup thanks to a great team that I had been a part of and we'd won the House cup because of my dedication to the Corps. Thanks to that prestige, Slytherin house was no longer a crowd of potential enemies willing to throw me under the bus for a chance at the limelight. Now, instead of divided and vulnerable, the house- or at least the second and a great deal of the third years- were united under me. Even Pansy Parkinson had given me a nod of acknowledgment before returning to her conversation with the third year next to her.

It was good to be on top. The only true concern I had at this point was getting to be a constant thorn in my side: Draco Malfoy. All throughout the Sorting, I couldn't help but notice how rarely Draco's eyes left Gryffindor's table. He seemed perfectly content loathing everyone who dared or was unlucky enough to meet his glare.

I didn't understand him. Didn't he have goals past hating Gryffindors? Didn't he have a dream to strive for or, at the very least, some sort of plan for the future? Judging by his behavior, he expected his name to get him everything he wanted in life. I hoped I'd be able to see his face when he discovered that that's not how life works.

Until Draco realized that the world did not revolve around him, he was going to be detrimental to me, a wild card thrown into my deck of cards. There were only a few ways I could fix that and none of them appealed to me. Marriage, even a betrothal contract, was not an option. An offer of partnership would never work between us; both of us would want to be in charge when there was only room for one leader. I could try my hand at convincing him to look at other wizarding schools but that seemed a bit drastic. I just needed him to grow up and stop being such a brat.

The feast was done before I even realized. It was only when I was being herded towards the dungeons that time caught up to me. Cursing under my breath for the narrowing window of opportunity, I retreated to the end of the parade of Slytherins were the first years were being led by the fifth year prefects, a boy named Callen Blake and a girl name Kirsten Meodia.

"Cal, Kirstie, can I have a moment?" I asked with a smile. Seeing me, Callen brightened as much as Kirsten scowled. Callen had been at the Quidditch tryouts last year, trying out for the role of chaser. He didn't make it but he was more than happy with the line up.

"Sure thing, Corinne. Alright, firsties, listen up. This is Corinne Wyncrest. Keep her happy and you stay happy, okay?" Caleb said, throwing a wink in my direction. I rolled my eyes.

"You make me out to be an absolute terror, Cal. Now what have I done to deserve that?" I asked, mock wounded at the implication. Dropping the fake hurt, I looked back at the first years. "I just wanted to take some time to talk to you a bit. I'm a second year and, like Cal said, my name is Corinne Wyncrest but you can all call me Cor. I just wanted to let you all know that if any of you are having any trouble, you can always come and talk to me, especially if it's school related. Last year I got some friends and I together and we started a club of sorts called the Corps. We wrote notes for every one of your classes and, if you are having trouble in class, you can come to any of us. We all wear one of these pins," I said, gesturing to the Corps pin on my robes. One of the girls frowned at it.

"Why is there a lion on it? And Gryffindor colors?" she asked suspiciously. I smiled back warmly.

"What's your name?"

"Lise Carmichael."

"Well, Lise, the pin is like this because half of the Corps is Gryffindor and half of it is Slytherin. I founded the group but, like any good Slytherin will tell you, you need good allies if you want to succeed. If you go to any of the Gryffindors in the Corps, they'll treat you just the same as I will because they know better than to think all Slytherins are evil."

"I think you've had enough time with them, Corinne," Kirsten interjected coolly.

"Okay, okay," I chuckled. I glanced back at the first years. "If any of you need me or just want to talk, feel free to find me. I'll either be in the common room or the library most nights. I know that first year is a little disorienting. Thanks, Kirstie. See you around, Cal." Taking the extra time to let my eyes linger on Callen for just a moment longer, I strode to catch up to Daphne, who was waiting with an almost predatory gleam in her eyes.

"You are going to have that boy wrapped around your finger." From her tone, I wasn't sure if she was proud of me or sorry for Callen. Probably both.

* * *

"Miss Wyncrest," Professor Snape called as he was finishing handing out schedules. I got out of my seat to collect mine but, before I could accept the piece of paper, Snape pulled it back.

"From what I understand, you expressed an interest in pursuing a mastery in the art of potions after your education here." Snape towered over me but, unlike the beginning of last year when I had been a borderline disappointment as a Slytherin, I was better adapted to life as a Slytherin. I was a gem in his collection.

"Yes, sir. My family was raised from obscurity through our potioneering. I'd like to honor that."

Snape studied me for a long time before passing my schedule to me.

"You have been presented an opportunity, Miss Wyncrest. Do not think that your actions in my potions classroom last year went unnoticed. You have a talent for potions beyond your brothers' and I would see you cultivate it. Do not disappoint me."

"I won't," I promised. With a final searching glance, Snape turned and left, leaving me with a piece of parchment. I was studying the paper even as Daphne and Blaise came up on my sides, curious to know what the conversation was about. All I could do, however, was stare at stare at two blocks on my schedule that I truly did not expect.

"We have Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws first... What is it?" Daphne asked impatiently. Wordlessly, I pointed to the block before the paper was ripped from by hands.

"Snape has you assisting in his first year classes?" Blaise asked incredulously. "He might as well hand the first years to you on a platter, Cor."

"He said it was an opportunity," I murmured. "Cutting the animosity in first year... He's letting us mend the break between Slytherin and the other houses starting in first year, from scratch."

"Well, good luck," Blaise wished, looking me over appreciatively. "I don't think I've ever heard of a student assistant in the school. You might be the first."

"She'll do great," Daphne said to him with a nod. Nodding absently, I looked back at her. I needed to regain my traction. I could worry about not making a fool of myself in the privacy of my dormitory.

"We need our textbooks."

* * *

"Cor, we've got to talk about the team," Marcus Flint said, towering over me as I lounged in one of the black leather couches in the common room, casually flipping a black button that used to be a beetle into the air. I glanced up before moving my legs closer to me, allowing him to sit.

"What's up?"

"Lord Malfoy has made a generous contribution to the team," Flint began.

"And he wants Draco to be seeker?" I guessed wryly. Flint looked appropriately shame-faced. "I understand. I'll talk to Draco about it. We'll see how he does in the Gryffindor-Slytherin game. If he sucks, I'll step up and seek for the other two games. If he's decent, I'll stay as reserve."

"Are you sure?" Flint asked cautiously. I smiled knowingly at him.

"I figured that this would happen. Draco wanted the seeker position since the beginning of last year and he's used to getting what he wants. Have you told Bass?"

"Like I want to be the one to tell your wildly overprotective big brother that I have to kick you off the team because some spoiled brat's father donated seven Nimbus 2001s to the team?" Flint scoffed. "I would prefer not."

"I'll tell him," I chuckled. "And _seven _Nimbus 2001s? No wonder you couldn't say no. Even if Draco's a terrible seeker, that's..."

"I know," Flint said almost miserably. I grinned at him. Now he was going to be stuck with Draco as much as I was. "You're still coming to practices. I don't think I'd resist not hexing him otherwise. We have practice on Saturday the minute the sun's up."

"I guess I could deign to sit on the sidelines."

"You're the best," Flint told me in all seriousness, rising from his seat. I laughed again.

"Oh, I know." I resumed flipping my beetle button until Daphne came back from library where she and Hermione had been talking to the first years about Corps-iculum. She had a clipboard in her arms and a pen- which we discovered _did_ work on Hogwarts' grounds despite the magical interference- tucked behind her ear.

"Hey," she greeted happily.

"I assume the notes went well?"

"Better than we expected, actually. Most of the forty-six firsties have placed orders for at least two lessons already."

"Hmm... I think we need to start looking into expansion. We have a solid group right now, but we just don't have the reach we need into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw at the moment," I murmured thoughtfully. Daphne, taking a seat beside me, handed me her clipboard so that I could see the numbers. "Lots of potions and history."

"I think you're right but if we're adding people we need to be careful. You can get the lions to scout ahead in the others houses some," Daphne offered. I frowned thoughtfully.

"I'll look into it. I think our best bet is to start from scratch. I'll go with you the next time you meet with the firsties and take a look at them. We're looking for budding leaders that are willing to unite under the Corps."

"But not so headstrong that they can't take an order," Daphne said almost to herself. When I looked at her wryly, she laughed under her breath. "You're our leader, Cor. There's no doubt about that. Anyone in the Corps, except maybe Ron, will likely do anything you ask."

"Including you?" I asked jokingly.

"Including me," she replied more seriously than I expected. Even with the off-hand response, I was happy to hear it. Despite some rather nasty rumors at the end of last year, my goal was not to be a dictator.


	3. Chapter 3

No one had been in the potions classroom when I knocked hesitantly on the door, unsure of what exactly I was supposed to be doing. Even so, I let myself in and made myself comfortable, setting my books on the unused counter space next to Snape's desk. After a few minutes, I grew bored and started pacing around the classroom, picking up miscellaneous ingredients to return to the closet.

When I returned to the classroom, I was surprised to see that I was no longer alone. A younger girl was sitting at one of the tables near to the front of the classroom, quite content to just sit and look around her silently.

"Hello. Are you here for potions?" I asked the girl. The first year looked around the potions classroom with wide silvery blue eyes, studying the room carefully. This girl had been around potions before.

"Yes," she finally answered, her voice as dreamy and light as her eyes. Those eyes turned to me almost unsettlingly fast. "You're not a first year, are you?"

"No. Professor Snape is allowing me to sit in on his first year courses and assist when needed. I'll be another pair of eyes making sure nothing serious goes wrong."

"Yes, mistakes can be quite dangerous here," the girl continued in that almost dazed voice.

"My name is Corinne Wyncrest," I told the girl, intrigued. "What's yours?"

"Luna Lovegood," she chirped with a vague smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you... So you're a Ravenclaw? How do you like it there so far?"

"It's fine, I suppose." After a moment, it became clear that the girl would not speak without further prodding.

"I imagine there must be a fair bit of pressure to do well in school there. A lot of the first years that signed up for Corps-iculum notes were Ravenclaws. I suppose natural curiosity is also a large factor in Sorting."

"A fair assumption. What else do you think determines Sorting?" Luna asked, surprising me with her first real question. I paused, thinking about it.

"If I had to guess, it would be what a person strives for, or what traits they hold in the highest regard. I think it has less to do with family than most people think. Over the past century, my family has had people Sorted into all of the houses and there are cases of twins being Sorted into different houses. It's about the individual person and what they plan or neglect to plan for the future."

"Hmm... You haven't made fun of me yet," she said in a matter-of-fact tone as if she had truly expected me to. I raised an eyebrow.

"Did you think I would? We've just met."

"The rumors all say that Slytherins are the wrong sort of people: bullies, cowards, liars," Luna listed dreamily. I was more curious than insulted by the girl's behavior.

"They also say that Ravenclaws don't buy into rumors," I replied. Luna glanced back at me, a small smile playing at her lips as if I'd passed some sort of test.

"You're different."

"So? You are too," I shrugged. Her smile grew.

Other students- Ravenclaws and Gryffindors- began to file in and the looks and whispers directed towards Luna were not lost on me. They were silenced, of course, when Snape came in from his office but I couldn't help but think about the happiness in Luna's eyes when I was decent enough to not tease her.

The class was set on crafting a Cure for Boils just like my first year class and I was almost proud to see Luna able to handle herself well as she sorted through the ingredients. Her peers, however... I could almost understand Snape's impatience if he spent year after year watching first years muck up an elementary potion. On the bright side, I was able to stop a Gryffindor first year- I think his name was Daniel Aurus- from repeating Neville and Seamus' mistake. After describing what would have happened to him if he had continued to add the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire, I was glad to see Daniel look both relieved and grateful. Grateful first years meant potential and impressionable allies.

At the end of class, Gryffindor had lost just three points and Slytherin was only ahead by fifteen- ten of which we given to me after I demonstrated a weak vanishing spell to the class, promising to teach it at the end of a future lesson so they wouldn't have to hand scrub their cauldron after all of their potions. A few of the more temperamental potions would still have to be scrubbed out but all of the first and second year potions would be fine to charm away.

As the bell rung and the students began rushing away from the dungeon classroom, I made sure to brush up against Luna, forcing her books to the ground. With false apologies, I helped her pick up her work, tucking a note among her belongings before handing them back to her. Hopefully she'd find it and read it in time to come to the next Corps gathering. She had potential.

* * *

Flint had not been exaggerating when he said that we had Quidditch practice as soon as the sun was up. I left before the rest of the team, needing the walk in the brisk fall air to snap me awake.

By the time I got the field, there was no sign of the Gryffindor team who, according to Flint, had scheduled the pitch for their own practice. I wasn't alone at the pitch, though. A younger boy in Gryffindor colors was sitting in the bleachers, fidgeting with what looked like a Muggle camera. Curious, I climbed up to get a closer look.

"Oh, hello!" he greeted, his voice a happy chirp. "Are you here to watch Harry too?"

"Sort of," I asked, bemused. "My name is Cor, what's yours?"

"Colin Creevey. Have you ever played Quidditch before? Can you explain it to me? Harry tried on the way down but I don't really get it. Hey, you're robes are a different color. So you're a Slytherin? Do you like it there? Is everyone there really mean because everyone in Gryffindor keeps telling me that- Wait, your name is Cor? With the notes? Oh, it's great to meet you! I've already signed up for potions. Dean Thomas- he's cool, but not as cool as Harry- keeps telling me that Potions is a really hard class but-"

"Easy there," I interrupted, laughing. "Don't you ever breathe, Colin Creevey?"

"Only when I need to," he replied excitedly. "So what's potions like? Is Professor Snape as mean as he looks? Does he-"

"Colin," I interrupted again, sharper this time. The first year Gryffindor seemed to actually take the hint this time and fell silent, looking at me expectantly. "I am Corinne Wyncrest, the founder and leader of the Corps that sells and distributes the notes. Professor Snape is a harder teacher but that's because of all the profound risks there are in potion making. One slip could result in a catastrophe and he doesn't want to see that in any of his students. Don't worry about the class being too hard, though. I'll be there to moderate."

"Really?" Colin asked, wide-eyed with what looked like awe. "So you're like really good at potions?"

"Best in my year," I said proudly, glad that Colin had slowed down enough for me to understand. "Now, why are you here?"

"Oh, I came to watch Harry and the Gryffindor team practice," he chirped. I sighed.

"Then you're out of luck. The Slytherin team is on its way with a note from our head of house. We have a new seeker this year and he needs training." As I spoke, the Gryffindor team began filing out of the locker rooms. I got to my feet. "Come on, Colin. You should come down with me."

"Alright! Hey, you know Harry, right? He's really cool, isn't he? Everyone told me about how he-"

"Colin."

"Right... Sorry... Can I watch the Slytherin team practice?"

"Not today. We've got a lot of work to do," I said, shaking my head. As we met the Gryffindor team, Wood met me with a scowl on his face.

"Spying for Slytherin today, Corinne?" It wasn't Wood with the accusations though. Damien met me with a hard stare but I didn't pay him a glance. I looked to Wood, the captain.

"Good morning, Oliver," I greeted pleasantly.

"Corinne," he said with a wary nod. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm actually the bearer of bad news. The Slytherin team is on their way here. There's a new seeker and Professor Snape has given Flint permission to use the pitch to train him."

"But you're their seeker," Harry interjected with a frown. "They've replaced you?"

"Yep. You guys have a shot this year," I joked to Harry before returning my attention to Wood. "Just thought I'd give you the heads-up. Flint will be willing to share the field or, if you prefer, he'll probably give you our slot for Sunday if you tell him I offered. I'd rather this not turn into another house argument."

"Thank you," Wood replied tensely even as Damien sputtered indignantly.

"You can't just-"

"Damien," Wood interrupted curtly. "If Flint's got a professor's permission, he's entitled to the field."

"As much as you hate it?" I asked wryly. I glanced behind me. "There's Flint and the others now. Good morning, boys!"

"Not quite so loud, Cor," Sebastian grumbled as they approached.

"Corinne's informed us that Professor Snape gave you permission to use the pitch," Wood said, his voice more defensively edged now. "May I see the note?"

"Knock yourself out," Flint said, pulling it from his pocket. "_I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new seeker._"

"Who's your new seeker?" Wood asked. My housemates shuffled around until Draco came to the front of the crowd, proudly showing his new broom.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred asked with poorly disguised malice in his voice.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," Flint began. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

They really were beautiful brooms. Carved from African blackwood, the highly polished handles looked as if they were shaped from obsidian instead of wood. From the gold calligraphy identifying the brooms as Nimbus 2001s to the carefully selected sweet birch twigs making up the broom's bristles, it was clear that the brooms were both expensive and of exceptional quality.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint with a grin. "I believe it outstrips the old 2000 series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps... sweeps the board with them."

The Slytherin team was not the last to enter the pitch. Hermione and Ron also appeared, both laden with food they'd brought from breakfast.

"What's happening? Why aren't you- What's he doing here?" Ron was distracted by the sight of Malfoy in his new Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin seeker, Weasley. Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

"So you sacked a great seeker for some fancy brooms? Hear that, chaps, the cup's as good as ours," Fred- or maybe George- scoffed. I admire the twins' good sportsmanship. They might be devilish prankster off of the field but they always played a clean game.

"Perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives. I expect a museum would bid for them."

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in. They got in on pure talent," Hermione growled. Draco's smug grin slipped.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat. In the midst of the uproar, I drew my wand before any punches could be thrown.

"Protego!" I growled, throwing a shield between the two teams. I didn't look at the Gryffindors though. I stared evenly at Flint until he backed away and let me face Draco. I leveled my wand at him, taking more pleasure than I should have at the fearful light in his eyes, and spoke in a low, controlled voice. "You are in _very_ dangerous waters now. Tread carefully, Malfoy."

I turned away from him, looking towards the Gryffindors. Ron was still struggling to get past the shield charm while Harry was staring incomprehensibly at the situation. Hermione was my main concern, though it didn't seem that she understood exactly what had been said either.

Just as I got to Hermione, I lowered the shield. Apparently, I was wrong to do so. A loud bang and a bright flash of green light were all I could see before Ron was on the ground. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What did come out was much more disturbing as several slugs slid down his chin and onto his lap.

My housemates, predictably, were too busy laughing to retaliate as the Gryffindors surrounded Ron. An almost steady stream of slugs escaped from his lips.

"Harry, Hermione. To Hagrid's," I grumbled. We had to get him out of sight before anyone left. Harry grabbed one of his arms and I grabbed the other, both trying to get him on his feet without getting slimed. And, just to throw a little more chaos in, Colin Creevey decided to start chatting.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?" As Colin jabbered away, Ron gave a huge heave and more slugs dribbled down his front. The excitable first year was not one to be perturbed. "Oooh. Can you hold him still, Harry?"

"Out, Colin!" I ordered. The first year lowered his camera sadly and shifted just enough so that we could get passed, Hermione leading the way.

"Nearly there, Ron," said Hermione as Hagrid's cabin came into view. "You'll be alright in a minute..."

We were so close- just twenty feet away, when Hagrid's door opened. Instead of a very large fur-wearing man, however, there was the one and only Gilderoy Lockhart dressed in pale mauve robes. Ducking into a bush so that he didn't see us, I almost missed what Lockhart was saying.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was shouting to Hagrid encouragingly. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one... I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!"

I had to kick a slug off of my shoe as Lockhart began striding off. I was really quite disappointed when it missed him by less than a foot.

Once the professor, and I use the term loosely, was out of sight, we bustled up to the door. At the sight of Ron, who had begun heaving slugs more frequently now, Hagrid just welcomed us in and gave Ron a large copper tub to catch the slugs.

"Better out than in," Hagrid chuckled. "Get 'em all up, Ron."

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop... That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times but with a broken wand..."

"Your wand is broken?" I asked, shocked. Ron, nodded weakly before heaving once more into the basin. "No wonder the curse backfired! Why haven't you tried-" I stopped suddenly, realizing exactly why Ron hadn't arranged for another wand. With seven kids, five of which were still in Hogwarts, it was unlikely that the Weasley family had money to spare for a second wand.

"I'm still not quite sure what happened," Harry said, trying to break the tension. "Malfoy called Hermione something and everyone just went wild."

"He's going to regret it. That's what's important now." I noticed that my hands were clenched tightly into fists and I made the effort to relax my tense muscles. I looked to Hagrid. "He called her a Mudblood."

"He didn'!" Hagrid's happy demeanor had vanished in a flash, leaving him angrier than I'd ever seen him.

"He did," Hermione said with a nod. "But I don't know what it means... I could tell it was really rude, of course, but-"

"It's a really foul name to describe a Muggleborn," I explained. My fists clenched again. "In the old families, there are a lot of people who believe that having Muggles in your family makes you low-class on a basic level. They think that Muggle blood weakens magic and should be purged from wizarding society. People like Malfoy or me, we're what some people call pure-blooded. Harry, because his mother was Muggleborn and his father a pure-blood, would be a half-blood. It's a load of nonsense."

"They think you have dirty blood," Ron continued before coughing up another slug. "It's disgusting..."

"Well, I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron. Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

"I'll handle Draco," I promised, resisting the urge to grin at the prospect. "And don't worry, Hermione. I can even do it without breaking a single rule."

I already had several ideas to try fleshing out into plans to take Draco down a peg. Oh, yes. I was going to enjoy this.

"Harry," said Hagrid abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought. "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

"I have not been giving out signed photos! If Lockhart's still spreading that around-" Harry was interrupted by a roaring laughing coming from Hagrid.

"I'm on'y jokin'," he said, patting Harry gently on the back and sending him face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."

"I bet he didn't like that," I chuckled. Hagrid, eyes twinkling, grinned back at me.

"Don' think he did. An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go."

"... We should be going soon too. Lunch will be served soon. It was nice talking to you, Hagrid. Hopefully next time it will be under better circumstances," I said, glancing at Ron as he coughed up a single slug.

We managed to say our goodbyes and make it to the entrance hall in good time but, just as we were heading towards the Great Hall, McGonagall stopped us.

"There you are. Potter, Weasley, you will both do your detentions this evening," Professor McGonagall informed them. I stared at the two boys incredulously.

"The first week of term isn't over yet and you've already got detention?" I asked.

"Weasley, you will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch. And no magic, Mr. Weasley- elbow grease. Potter, you will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail."

"Oh, Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room too?" Harry asked a little desperately. Evidently his classes with the man had taught him what I already knew: Lockhart was a pompous prick.

"Certainly not. Professor Lockhart requested you specifically. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."

Once we were in the Great Hall, I left the Gryffindors behind and walked up to the Slytherin table where, to my surprise, I couldn't see hide nor hair of Draco. As I sat down between Daphne and Blaise, across from Sebastian, I noticed the knowing smirk on Sebastian's face and I shivered. If Bass had gotten his hands on Draco already...

"Where's Draco?" I asked suspiciously. Sebastian's smirk only grew.

"Probably writing a novel to his father," he chuckled. "I kind of hope he tries his luck again. After you left, Flint threatened him with suspension from the team."

"Really?"

"Really. He was not happy, especially when the little brat was called into practice. He might look the part but he's a terrible seeker. We need you back on the team, Cor," Sebastian said, shaking his head wearily.

"Talking about Malfoy?" Montague, sitting down next to Sebastian, asked with a grim look on his face.

"Yeah."

"Kid's all talk," Montague grumbled. "I almost hope we lose the first game just so Flint has an excuse to suspend him."

"You'd rather lose to Gryffindor than keep him on as a seeker?" Daphne asked. She wasn't a fan of Quidditch by any stretch of the imagination but she knew the worth of the Quidditch cup to the team. We had a winning streak and no one planned on giving that up, especially to the likes of Gryffindor.

"Definitely," Montague said gravely.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days passed before I had any sort of repercussions. Instead of coming directly from Draco, I received a letter from my mother.

_My little bird,_

_I am not sure what you have done to upset the Malfoy heir but his father is furious. You know that your father and I are determined, as always, to allow you independence but I cannot remind you enough of the inconveniences Lord Malfoy can cause for you later in life when you inherit my title._

_You must make a choice: either placate the boy or drive him further away. Your father and I will support you in either decision but it is a decision that you must make soon. There is little patience in the Malfoy house for games._

_Always,_

_Mama_

I knew that I needed to make a decision but I had more than two options. If I could convince Draco that I was the stronger figure then he would have to fall subservient or be pushed aside by his own pride. The only trouble was in convincing such an arrogant brat was that I needed something big to act as a catalyst, some event that would make it clear that I was the ruling power and he was nowhere near my level.

That catalyst did not come until Halloween but, when it did... Well, it left more of an impression than I wanted.

I was leading my house, Daphne and Blaise flanking me, towards the common room after the feast when I spotted them: Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing less than a yard away from a message painted on the wall and a board-stiff cat hanging from a torch bracket.

"_The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware,_" Blaise read aloud softly. "That can't be good."

"Enemies of the heir, beware!" I recognized Draco's voice at once as he wrestled his way through the crowd, coming out just next to Blaise. "You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

"Draco, who are you to say that _Muggleborns_ are the ones next on the list?" I asked coldly. If I had any luck, it would be him; that would solve a number of my problems. "If you're not careful, it could very easily be _you_."

Draco paled considerably as a wave of whispers rose up behind me. I realized that I wasn't just in front of Slytherins anymore. I looked at Daphne miserably.

"Did I just name myself as the heir of Slytherin?" I asked in a low voice. Swallowing, she nodded once and I groaned.

The situation was no better when the faculty arrived. Dumbledore released the cat from where she had been stuck and then, taking a look at the Corps, excluding Neville of course, ordered us to come with him and Mr. Filch. Lockhart, the git that he was, offered his office to the headmaster and we were off with Snape and McGonagall, as our heads of house, quick on our heels.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her," Lockhart announced after lighting the candles in his office. I had to resist laughing, catching sighting of a fleeing portrait of the man who had his hair in curlers. "I'd say the Transmogrifian torture. So unlucky I wasn't there, I know the precise countercurse that would have saved her."

While Lockhart was jabbering on and Filch sobbing over the loss of his beloved cat, Dumbledore was examining Mrs. Norris carefully with a series of tests. Nearly two minute into listening to Lockhart babbled, I couldn't take it any longer. Luckily, just as I opened my mouth to interrupt his tirade- loss of points be damned- Dumbledore looked up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he reported gently. I froze.

"Petrified?" I asked, hoping I was incorrect. Dumbledore, a very heavy sadness in his eyes, nodded.

"How, I cannot say, but yes."

"Ask _him_!" Filch shrieked, rounding on Harry. I stepped in front of Harry.

"Do you honestly expect a Muggle-raised second year to know how to petrify someone? And, honestly, if Harry or anyone else here was really a suspect, a quick Priori Incantatem would reveal that the last thing any of us did was likely a disarming charm."

"Miss Wyncrest, five points," Snape said warningly. I resisted the urge to ask if that was _to_ me or _from_ me and backed down.

"I'm sorry, sir..." I looked back at Harry to explain. "Petrification as a spell is very complex dark magic. I can only name a handful of people who know how to do it by their own power and all of them are either in Azkaban or Unspeakables."

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," Dumbledore said, bringing the topic back. "Professor Sprout recently acquired some mandrakes. As soon as they've reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep if I-"

"Excuse me," interrupted Snape bitingly. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."

I resisted the urge to laugh as Lockhart turned a very interesting shade of mauve. Before he could respond, unfortunately, Dumbledore saw fit to dismiss us.

"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?" Harry asked as soon as we were out of sight. I nearly stopped dead.

"No," said Ron, without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

"Harry, you've been hearing voices? That could be very serious! You need to tell someone about that! There are all sorts of things- Someone could be trying to get into your head, and I mean that literally."

"Well there's not much I can do about that now, is there? Look, I know it's weird. The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened… What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once… might've been Bill…"

"The chamber of secrets is more story than history at this point... Rumor has it that when Salazar Slytherin and the other founders were creating Hogwarts, there was a disagreement on who should be allowed to attend. Slytherin supposedly wanted only purebloods to attend Hogwarts but the other three welcomed everyone with open arms. After years, the issue on blood purity became too much and, after a fight, Slytherin left Hogwarts, never to return. Before he left, though, he built a secret chamber, a place where only the truly pure or loyal could rest safely because in there he hid a monster, a monster that would purge the school of Muggleborns when the heir of Slytherin returned to the school. People have searched the school for centuries without luck, leading most people to think it doesn't exist."

"Most?" Harry prodded.

"Most," I confirmed. "There are families, even now, who almost worship the Slytherin name. If it was discovered that he had a living heir... It would be chaos."

"Discovered? How can you not know if you're related?" Ron asked. Hermione answered that one for me.

"Salazar Slytherin lived centuries ago, Ron. Even the oldest families can only trace their lineage back so far. For all we know, Hermione could be the heir of Slytherin."

"What?" Hermione squeaked.

"Muggleborns aren't really Muggleborn," I shrugged. "If you look very closely, somewhere in your lineage there was either a witch or wizard or a Squib, a non-magical child of wizarding parents. Most Squibs, in the absence of magic, try to make a life for themselves in the Muggle world and do quite well. They pass on the ability to use magic even if it wasn't latent in them. Anyone at this school could be the heir."

* * *

_Mama,_

_I don't know if you've heard the rumors but I need your assistance. The cat of the caretaker has been Petrified, and left next to her was a message reading _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, Beware._ Though I haven't yet been confronted on the matter, I am suspected as the heir. Me, the heir to Salazar Slytherin? _

_The Corps has done what they can to dispel the rumors but the fact that I have such a loyal following only incenses the gossip. I've done what I can to discourage and deny the accusations but it makes things difficult. Slytherin house walks a careful line around me now, unsure. If I am the heir, aren't they bound to follow me? But if I am not, then they are wrong to accept my guidance. I need to know, Mama, is there any way that there is a relation?_

_I wouldn't ask if not for Francis. He hid his ability well in the past but you cannot pretend to me that he is not a parselmouth, especially now in his near-madness. There is, somehow, a tie to a parselmouth in our family. Could the tie be to Salazar Slytherin himself?_

_Please, Mama, could you arrange for a Legacy? I know that the circumstances leave much to be desired but they are as they are._

_With Love,_

_Your little bird_

I reread the letter once, twice before getting up the nerve to place the letter in the thick envelope I had brought. Then, reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a small glass vial, swallowing at the sight of it. The crimson liquid within it would be enough for a Legacy, I knew.

Tucking the vial into the envelope as well and sealing it before I could change my mind, I called one of the school owls down from her perch. The owl, a white-masked barn owl, held her leg out to me eagerly, chuffing with excitement at the thought of a flight.

"It'll be a long flight... Armynth Wyncrest," I murmured to the owl. "She should be at the Wyncrest home in Wales."

The barn owl blinked at me knowingly before walking awkwardly to the edge of the Owlery and, spreading her wings, fell off the edge. She rose up silently on a thermal, leaning to change her path towards the south. I watched her go until she was lost to the early morning light. Turning on my heel, I began the walk back to the castle, determined to get back to the dungeons before anyone noticed I was gone.

* * *

When a pile of books landed on the table next to me, I didn't have to glance up to know that the Gryffindors had finally found me.

"It's not true, is it?" Harry was the one to ask. I wasn't sure how I should answer.

The situation at the school had been steadily spiralling out of control. It was all kept under close wraps, of course, but tension was mounting in preparation for the upcoming Gryffindor-Slytherin match.

"To the best of my knowledge, no," I said carefully. "I definitely didn't write that on the wall and I didn't touch Mrs. Norris, but I can't definitively say that there is no blood relation between me and Slytherin yet."

"Yet?" Hermione's voice held no relief, for which I was glad. If she had actually thought it was me... I don't know how I would have reacted.

"I'm looking into it," I promised. Mama had written back as soon as she had gotten my letter, sending it back with the same owl, but a Legacy would take time. Even if the ritual itself wasn't exceptionally long, it was a process that only the head goblin at Gringotts was, by their laws, permitted to do. "It will take a couple of weeks but then I'll know for sure."

"Know for sure?" Ron echoed. After a moment, he gasped with understanding. "You don't mean-"

"A Legacy," I confirmed. Glancing at Harry and Hermione- who were both raised by Muggles and had no reason to know what a Legacy was- I sighed. "A Legacy is an ancient ritual meant to ascertain who has the greatest amount of claim on a family name or title. Nowadays it's used to reopen old vaults, ones that have either been forgotten or have had been lost thanks to a lack of male heirs to carry on the name. For me, it might tell me if there are any unknown titles I could claim or families I could belong to. Think of it like a magical blood test."

"So if you _are_ a descendant of Slytherin, it would tell you?" Hermione asked, sounding enthralled at the idea. I nodded before frowning.

"It depends. If I have the strongest claim, it would identify me as either the heiress or even Lady Slytherin. If I'm one of ten individuals with the strongest claim, or someone has a claim as strong as mine, it will say so. If there are ten individuals with a stronger claim than me, it wouldn't show up at all. I could still carry his blood but, unless my claim is strengthened or one of the others passes away without an heir, it wouldn't show up on a normal Legacy."

"I've had it done," Neville admitted. "Gran wanted to make sure I knew exactly how big the shoes I had to fill are from day one... She's already trying to get me ready for the Longbottom lordship."

"What would happen if I got a Legacy?" Hermione asked curiously. After the entire summer, she'd had plenty of time to wrap her head around the fact that the once painfully shy Neville was going to be a very influential figure once he comes of age. "You mentioned that Muggleborns are descended from Squibs. Could a Muggleborn have the strongest claim?"

"Of course. It happens occasionally. Most Muggleborns don't know to get the Legacy done, however, so if they have a claim to a family they simply go their entire lives without realizing it. Like I said, you yourself could be the heir of Slytherin."

"I bet it's Malfoy," Ron growled. I actually laughed at the idea and Ron's ears reddened. "What? You heard what he said after Mrs. Norris got attacked!"

"Of course I did. Draco's not the heir, though. If he were, that means that his father would have known about it and there's no way a man like Lucius Malfoy would voluntarily pass up on the chance to throw the name Lord Slytherin around. Draco simply made a bad decision in saying that."

"Like you did?" Harry followed up. I grimaced.

"Yes, like I did..."

"Hey, is there any way Draco got a Legacy thing without his dad knowing? Then he might be the heir without telling his father," Harry suggested.

"There's no way. A Legacy cannot be performed on a minor outside of the presence of at least one guardian. And I can't see Draco bringing himself to bleed enough for the ritual," I murmured, holding up my left hand to show the others the small bandage wrapped around my palm. At once, Hermione grabbed me by the wrist.

"Corinne, that was incredibly dangerous!" she scolded lightly. I swallowed a scoff and settled for a wry smile.

"It's no more dangerous than walking around the school by myself nowadays. I can't walk from Potions to my dorm without hearing some sort of comment about how I'm out to kill everyone."

"But that's ridiculous!" Hermione gasped. "Has it really gotten that bad?"

"More or less," I said, regretting that slip. "I'd take a small cut over the situation becoming volatile though the Corps' presence has helped defuse the animosity."

"The Quidditch match might fix that," Harry grumbled, his voice darker than I expected. Even so, I knew why. With Flint's patience crumbling, Draco was a hair away from suspension. If he didn't show major improvement in our next practice, he was out for the Gryffindor-Slytherin match and I was in.

Smashing Gryffindor was not likely to win me any favor from the other houses but I couldn't ignore the fact that, despite the Corps, I was a Slytherin through and through.


	5. Chapter 5

I was rarely nervous before a Quidditch match but, on that dreary November day, I felt my heart in my throat as I pulled on my green and silver uniform. It was no better when I joined the rest of the team for the usual pre-game talk.

"Alright, team. This is an important game," Flint began. "We've got an eight year winning streak. I intend to go out in a bang so let's get out there and show Gryffindor why we're the best Slytherin has to offer. There's no one else I'd want having my back today on the pitch. Now let's do this!"

I pushed back the uneasy twisting in my gut and returned my brother's grin as his eyes turned to me, snatching up my Nimbus 2000. The others could fly around on the brooms Lord Malfoy had bought them; I wasn't going to win against Harry because Draco is a spoiled brat. No, I was going to beat him with the same broom, fair and square.

We walked out to the pitch to a cacophony of sound but I could easily disregard the boos as I caught sight of my housemates cheering us on just as loudly as the other three houses were calling us out.

At Madam Hooch's whistle, we shot up off of the ground, the Slytherin team breaking into formation. Harry joined me above the other players, intending to get the best vantage point to be had.

"Hope Wood's been training your chasers into the ground, Harry, otherwise there's no way you're going to even get second," I said with a playful smirk as Lee Jordan, less than five minutes after the start of the game, mournfully announced that Slytherin had scored the first goal.

"Oh, real-"

"Bludger," I warned casually, knowing Harry would have instinct enough to avoid the incoming projectile. He didn't seem to trust me immediately and glancing back had cost him precious time, forcing him to corkscrew tightly to avoid getting his head smashed in. "I told you."

"Close one, Harry!" one of the twins shouted, streaking past the both of us with his club in his hand, ready to knock the bludger into Pucey's path. Before even coming close to Pucey, though, the bludger careened off-course and started heading back to knock Harry off of his broom. Harry dropped like a stone to avoid it but the bludger was already on a warpath towards-

"Ah!" Eyes widening, I jerked to the side, narrowly avoid the bludger as it sped past me before changing course once more to target Harry.

"Someone must have tampered with it," I realized as the bludger circling Harry forced both of the Gryffindor beaters to flank Harry to keep him on his broom. Wood would never stop the game to get the bludger checked properly and I knew Flint would eat Hagrid's rock cakes before even calling a time-out to help out his adversaries. The only way this game would end was if the snitch was caught and, as Harry was closely guarded by the Weasley twins, I knew that he wasn't going to be able to even see it amid their flailing as they tried to smack the bludger away.

I had to win the game to help Harry.

Winning the game before Gryffindor had a chance to even scrape up a few goals would only put me into more serious conflict with the other houses...

But if I caught the snitch before Slytherin was too far ahead, Gryffindor might be able to make up for it in their game against Hufflepuff. Slytherin would win, Harry would walk away from the game with no serious injuries, and I wouldn't have any new issues to deal with.

It was the only viable option.

Through the steadily increasing rainfall, I could track down my captain as he made his way to the Gryffindor goalposts, quaffle in hand. Montague was just ahead of him, rushing the Gryffindor chasers to get them to break formation enough for Flint to get a clean shot past Wood. I didn't need to see Flint throw it to know that he had made the goal- the groaning and shouting of three houses was enough to tell me that Wood hadn't managed to save the catch, bringing the score to a neat 90-0.

I had to get the Snitch otherwise Gryffindor didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of catching up.

I scanned the field quickly, trying to ignore how the Weasley twins were now double team the same bludger that had its heart set on giving Harry the beatdown of his short life. Gritting my teeth and blinking against the rain, I nearly missed the tiny gold flicker near the Slytherin posts. Gripping my broom just a little tighter, leaning forward and sending myself hurtling towards the posts. In my concentration to catch the snitch, I hardly noticed that Gryffindor's chasers had finally secured the quaffle and were speeding towards the Slytherin goals before they lost it. I had to pull up sharply to avoid slamming into Damien but it was obvious that he hadn't seen me at all. The quaffle slipped from his fingers and would have fallen into Flint's hands if that Katie Bell girl hadn't been quick enough on the uptake to snatch it.

"Really, Corinne? You've stooped to _blatching_?" he sneered, apparently forgetting the game around us. I snarled at him as I noticed that the snitch had vanished.

"I was trying to get the snitch, idiot! I've got to end the game before Harry gets hurt!"

"Harry?" Damien asked, eyes narrowing dangerously as they searched for the other seeker. Once he had located Harry, his jaw dropped. "That bloody bludger!"

"Someone's tampered with it but neither of the captains will call off the game. I've got to end the game, preferably _before_ Slytherin tears your team a new one."

"Why do you care?"

"GRYFFINDOR SCORES!" Lee Jordan's voice interrupted me before I could even properly speak and I grimaced.

"I've got a snitch to catch. Tell Wood about Harry if you can."

Before Damien could try to keep me any longer, I was already speeding away. I flew almost straight up, trying to regain some semblance of a vantage point to study the field from.

My heart skipped a beat when I noticed where the snitch was.

For the second time in the course of the game I pushed the limits of my broom, ignoring the quickly incoming bludger as I darted closer and closer to Harry. He couldn't see it, thanks to the full body shielding provided by the twins, but the snitch was hovering less than a foot to his side. If I could manage to get it, the game would end and the bludger would be recalled, forcefully if necessary.

As I hurtled towards the snitch, though, my broom was moving faster than my mind. I knew the exact moment when the opportunity to pull out of the maneuver passed and, just seconds after that, I registered the bludger's path. I still had a choice but the options were not favorable.

I could throw a dive and prolong the game, allowing the bludger hurtling into the boy's blindspot to knock him off of his broom or I could follow through with my path, catch the snitch, and take the bludger myself.

Before I could consider the alternative, I was already reaching for the snitch, straining as my fingertips brushed lightly about its golden shell. The moment of sweet victory as my hand closed around the tiny ball was very short lived as my reward was met with the consequences.

The bludger slammed into my right side and jagged pain flared across my ribs and lungs. I struggled to hold onto my broom and the snitch but the blow had sent me into a dangerous freefall.

I could only hear Harry's horrified voice screaming my name as my broom was ripped from my hands and I began the twenty feet drop to the ground.

A cry escaped my throat as I hit the mud, barely cushioning my fall. I regretted the sound immediately; my ribs screamed in protest as my lungs struggled to pull in air. I was halfway between crying and hyperventilating, knowing I'd never felt so much pain. Even after that disastrous Yule, I had mostly felt drained and worn. Now I felt _broken_.

"Cor!"

Harry was the first one to reach me. I forced myself to open my eyes only to see, instead of green robes, a wash of red and gold. The Gryffindors had me completely surrounded but I couldn't see anything but fear and panic in their eyes.

"Why did you do that, Cor?" Damien asked, kneeling in the mud next to me. His hands fluttered towards me but I struck out with my left arm, glad that I could almost use that arm without much pain.

"Don't!" My voice was more of a croak than a growl as I uncurled my hand around the snitch. "The bludger. Did it stop?"

"The moment you caught the snitch," Harry told me, a grateful light in his eyes. I sighed, relieved that he hadn't been hurt.

"Corinne!" I recognized the roar immediately. _Sebastian._ "Someone get Madame Pomfrey!"

As I watched, the Weasley twins were shoved brusquely out of the way as the Slytherin team rushed up, slowly pushing everyone else aside as they took over. Flint wasn't there but I could hear him arguing with Madam Hooch about the condition of the bludger.

In the midst of the chaos, I almost didn't notice Lockhart show up as we were flooded with other students and staff. I was forced to notice, unfortunately, when the git decided to draw his wand.

"Not to worry, Miss Wyncrest. I can fix that in a jiffy. It's really quite a simple-"

Lockhart's voice drifted as Sebastian, not moving from my side, turned his head to glare at the older wizard. A nervous chuckle escaped Lockhart before he very wisely placed his wand back into his robes. I laughed under my breath before very quickly realizing my mistake. Hugging my ribs didn't make the pain lessen any, either. If anything, it only inflamed what must have been cracked ribs.

"Harry, next time you're taking the bludger," I hissed.

* * *

I was glad that Madame Pomfrey could heal bones as quickly as she could. I had to listen to a ten minute tirade about the dangers of Quidditch as she handed me a number of different potions to relieve pain, reduce swelling, and any number of other things, but her ability to wave her wand and heal- what she reported to me as two broken and three cracked ribs as well as a bad shoulder sprain from the fall and minor lacerations on my right kidney thanks to one of the broken ribs- gave me the option of accepting visitors. She demanded that I be kept in the hospital wing overnight for observation but agreed that, so long as I let my shoulder finish healing and don't do anything to exacerbate my ribs, I would be free to return to the Slytherin dorms tomorrow.

I was unsurprised when the first people through the door were the Corps. It was all I could do to convince Hermione and Daphne that, at this point, I really shouldn't be receiving crushing hugs. Hermione contented herself with threatening to break my hand in a vice grip.

"That was so dangerous, Cori," she said in a very soft voice. I grimaced.

"If I hadn't done it, Harry would have been hit and the game would have gone on even longer. We were already thrashing you guys..."

"Oh," Harry said as if realizing something. He looked to Ron.

"Do you know what the final score was?"

"I think it was 260-20, my good friend." Blaise was the one who answered, throwing his arm over Ron's shoulders with a dangerously wide grin. Ron grimaced as if in more pain than me.

* * *

For better or for worse, I was awake when the hospital wing gained another tenant. Keeping my silence, I recognized Dumbledore and McGonagall as they quietly hefted what looked like a small statue onto one of the beds but, as my eyes studied the tiny figure lying frozen on the bed, I regretted it immediately. Maybe if I had spoken I could have diminished the sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe I could have been asleep.

I sat up silently as McGonagall hurried away to fetch Madame Pomfrey. The presence of the medi-witch would make little difference for the small first year, though. The way he was frozen... There was only one thing that could make the excitable boy that stiff.

Colin Creevey was Petrified.

"What happened?" Madame Pomfrey asked Dumbledore in a whisper, pulling her cardigan over her nightdress as she bent over the small boy.

"Another attack," Dumbledore confirmed sadly. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," McGonagall continued just as softly. Her head nodded towards me and I hurriedly shut my eyes. "We think he was trying to visit Miss Wyncrest."

"Petrified?" Madame Pomfrey asked after a short moment.

"It appears so... I'm afraid..." Dumbledore's voice drifted for just a moment before he ploughed onward. "This means that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

"But, Albus... Who could have...?"

"The question is not _who_... The question is _how_..."

Even without seeing them myself, I could feel their eyes on me.

_Did they... Do they think _I_ did this?_

* * *

An owl came for me while I ate the small breakfast Madame Pomfrey had delivered to me, staring blankly at the tall curtains that had been drawn about Colin's bed. It didn't help not seeing him; I could still picture him, usually full of energy, stiff as a board and unfeeling. It was just _wrong_.

The moment I recognized the white browed hawk owl as my mother's, I shoved my breakfast aside and reached eagerly for the large roll of parchment clasped within its talons. Horus relinquished the message without fuss before contenting himself with pecking at the biscuit that had come with my porridge.

As I unrolled the parchment, a smaller piece of paper fell from the roll. Recognizing the graceful curvature of my mother's handwriting, I picked up that letter first.

_My little bird,_

_The Legacy has been completed._

_Just now that your father and I always and will always love you dearly. No matter your choice, we will support you._

_Yours,_

_Mama_

The shortness of the letter struck a chord somewhere inside of me and my chest became just a little tighter. If there was a choice for me to make... I knew what the Legacy would tell me.

Hardening my resolve, I picked up the Legacy and finished unrolling it.

**Birth-Name:** _Corrine Lisbetta Wyncrest_

**Date of Birth:**_ December 2nd, 1980_

**Father:** _Jason Tiberius Wyncrest (nee Kyrns)_

**Mother:** _Armynth Marie Wyncrest_

**Titles:** _Confirmed Heiress to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Wyncrest, by maternal birthright_

_Disputed Heiress to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin, by paternal birthright_

_Fifth in Line to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Rosier, by paternal birthright_

_Ninth in Line to the Noble and Ancient House of Lowe, by maternal birthright_

**Gifts:** _Animagus_ (Unrealized)_,_ _Parselmouth_ (Unrealized)

**Discovered Blocks:** _Partial Magic Dampening (Natural), set by Jason Tiberius Wyncrest_

**Additional Notes:** _Goddaughter of Alice Renee Longbottom and Frank Gerard Longbottom_

I couldn't describe how grateful I was that the letter reached me before I was in the public eye.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus past the innate wrongness of the situation. I was the heir of Slytherin, but I wasn't at the same time. There was someone out there, someone within Hogwarts, with a claim as powerful as mine and they were taking it upon themselves to finish what Salazar Slytherin had apparently started.

What in Merlin's name was I going to do?


	6. Chapter 6

"Professor?" I knocked on the door to the classroom, entering warily when it swung open. As I walked into the room, Snape's eyes snapped from the papers on his desk to my face before looking back down at what I knew to be the first years' latest homework assignment.

"What can I help you with, Miss Wyncrest?" I swallowed.

"It's just that- I've had a Legacy done. I wanted to be able to confirm that I was _not_ the heir of Slytherin to the student body but the Legacy came back positive. My claim is disputed, though. Someone else with a claim as strong as mine has to be responsible for the attacks."

Snape's eyes were back on me the moment the word 'Legacy' left my lips. His dark eyes were unreadable to me but I could have sworn that I saw a flicker of uncertainty.

"Have you told anyone about this?" I took that to mean the Corps.

"Not a soul. The only ones who know would be the goblin who performed the ceremony, my parents, and now you."

"No other professors?"

"I wanted your advice first... There are already people suspicious of me because of the Corps. I'd rather not tell the masses that I'm directly descended from a man they all see as the Darkest wizard of all time."

"Sound logic... You've put yourself in a dangerous place by getting a Legacy performed. Now there is no doubt that you share Slytherin's blood, even if your claim is disputed, and if the culprit is not caught quickly there may be consequences if you don't expose yourself."

"So you recommend that I tell everyone?" I asked incredulously. That wasn't a very Slytherin thing to do.

"I recommend that you tell your friends as soon as convenient." Snape's lip curled ever so slightly at the word 'friends' as if my choice in companions disgusted him. Then again, it probably did. "You must wait for an opportunity to tell the rest so that you cannot have been behind the attacks."

At once, I understood. Snape's plan, or hint of a plan, was actually more than brilliant. By keeping the information largely private, no one would suspect me if I started setting up alibis. Then, after the next attack, I could out myself as the disputed heir and publicly demand that the attacks stop. Despite my Slytherin blood and house, advocating for the end of the attacks and the persecution of muggleborns would take the focus off of me and allow me to search for the other disputed heir.

"Now, if that was all, I have a number of assignments left to grade," Snape said in a low voice, returning his attention to the papers on his desk. Trying not to smile, I nodded and excused myself quickly, already pulling a piece of paper from my bag.

* * *

I sat down at a long desk, folding my hands over the table until silence had fallen in the almost empty classroom. For this meeting, I had called everyone together. For Snape's recommended plan of action, it was important that the news gets spread through those loyal to me before anyone else, otherwise I'd be fending off attacks from inside and out of the Corps.

I glanced around to confirm that even our newest members had made it. Neville, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Daphne, Blaise, Luna Lovegood, and Stephanie Leighan-a Hufflepuff first year- all sat facing me, ready to get down to business.

"I called you here with very delicate news... My Legacy came back yesterday morning and it has been confirmed. I am a descendant of Salazar Slytherin." No one spoke or even exchanged glances, something I was grateful for, as I took a breath. "I am not the confirmed heiress, though. There is someone inside of Hogwarts that has a claim as strong as mine and is not afraid to flaunt it.

"The reason why I'm telling you this is because for this to work, I need to be honest with you as much as you need to be honest with me. When this all comes to light, which it will, there will likely be threats, if not direct attacks. If you stay with me, that will extend to you. If you don't, you might as well hand in your pin right now." I didn't need cowards at my side, not for what I wanted to do. When no one moved, I was pleased.

"What's the plan?" Of all the things Hermione could have said, I doubted I would welcome any of them more than her question. I could tell from her eyes that she was going to see this through with me, even if she didn't like the plan.

"I need you all to clear your schedules as much as possible. The Corps needs a self-defense campaign running through the school. If someone wants to partake in practical lessons with us, I want them to be able to do it at no charge. Theory and the Corps-iculum notes will still continue on as we had planned but I need people to be able to look at us and think that we're trying to help as best as we can.

"Now, Professor Snape let slip that Lockhart is starting up a dueling club. I want each of you to be there. Make yourselves helpful, or at least look the part. There's no way of telling when, but there will be another attack and I want people to be able to turn to the Corps, to trust us, before they discover my connection to Slytherin. Once another attack is made, I'll find a way to publicize on my terms that I am a disputed heir and wholly devoted to stopping whoever is arranging these attacks. For that, I'll need your help," I said, nodding to Harry and Hermione. Both looked a little surprised.

"What?"

"Why me?" Harry asked.

"Hermione, you're my biggest Muggleborn ally and friend. It's true, just look around at this table. Purebloods, half bloods, and you. I need you at my side when people start to think that I'm behind the attacks because you are in the best position to defend me. Harry, you are the Boy-Who-Lived. You are famous because somehow you managed to defeat one of the Darkest Lords of our time. People will try to side with you if they can, even if they don't always agree. It's better to agree with your heroes than to be left to your enemies."

"That's terrible," Stephanie murmured, eyes wide. I smiled wryly at her as Daphne answered.

"That's Slytherin," she corrected. "Our house is the toughest to live in. Unless we have a single leader, it's eat or be eaten. Even with Cor as our rallying figure, disagreeing with her tends to end badly."

"You make me sound like a tyrant," I said, mock wounded. She winked playfully at me.

"A benevolent dictator. And you know it. At mealtimes, Kirstie has sat almost by herself for two weeks now because everyone knows that the two of you don't get along."

"We would get along fabulously if she was able to believe I'm not actually trying to enslave the entire world. The entire world would get so tedious to keep running smoothly," I joked. The conversation couldn't stay light-hearted, unfortunately.

"Luna, Steph. You are our newest members. As such, you will face a lot of opposition. Older students will interrogate you on what the Corps talks about behind closed doors, the other first years may try to use you to get into the Corps as well or distance themselves from you to stay out of our eye. I told you when I first invited you here though that we take care of our own. I trust that you will notify me or another member immediately if you are given any sort of trouble relating to this heir of Slytherin business. This is not your fight."

"No one talks to me already," Luna said with a nonchalant shrug. Stephanie, however, was a Hufflepuff. As a general rule, that meant she would talk the path of least resistance if at all possible and avoid any sort of confrontation. She was the unknown variable.

"My house is really nice... But no one there has really done anything for me. The older students all say that they're there, but they've never thrown themselves in my path to help me... You did, Corinne." She looked up from the table with sparkling brown eyes. "I promise to tell you if someone bothers me, but I will always have your back."

I needed to resist the smirk that threatened to come to my face. Everything was falling into place. Now I just needed-

* * *

An attack. I didn't want anything showy; just a nice and clean Petrification that could be exploited for my personal gain. That was it, nothing special. I never, in any of my wildest expectations, thought that Harry could have been a parselmouth. Unfortunately, the cards were dealt and I had to play with the hand I was given. When walking through the library with Daphne and Blaise in preparation for a practical lesson, however, one of my buttons was pushed a little too far.

"Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know - Creevey's been attacked."

Ernie, I thought his name was. He and the girl he was talking to, Hannah Abbot, were both Hufflepuffs but there they were, talking bad about a boy they barely knew.

I cleared my throat loudly, resisting the urge to smirk or pull out my wand when the two jumped as if they'd been burned.

"Just the people I was looking for," I said, pretending as if I'd meant to run into them even though I was sure they had Herbology this period. "Ernie, Hannah, I have a request."

"What, fess up to Potter where Justin's hiding out?" Ernie challenged. I narrowed my eyes.

"No. I want you to tell your entire house that the Corps is expanding its practical lessons. All practical defense lessons will be available for free until the supposed Heir of Slytherin is caught. I'll have Stephanie put up an official schedule in your common room later this week."

"Well they're not gonna go on for long with Potter getting sloppy, now are-"

"You have the _audacity_ to suggest that the Boy-Who-Lived is the next Dark Lord? Don't make me laugh. His own _mother_ was a Muggleborn; don't be an idiot."

Ernie grew very red in the face but I wasn't finished. I stared hard at the both of them.

"Now I doubt Professor Sprout would like to have her Puffs bad mouthing anyone else, especially before they have the facts, so I suggest that you keep your mouth shut."

"Is that a threat?" Ernie said, throwing up a weak bravado as he attempted to intimidate me. Daphne and Blaise were close at my side, however, and Blaise even took a step forward to match him.

"It's a promise. Blaise, Daphne, let's go. We've got better things to do than prattle like this."

We began to walk away, Blaise slipping his wand away once more, when Ernie shouted out towards us.

"Oh, yeah! Big and tough when you've got your bodyguards hovering over ya!"

I stopped, hesitating for just a moment. Daphne gripped my shoulder.

"He's not worth it," she whispered almost desperately. I knew that I couldn't back down, though- my pride was attacked. If I let Ernie think that I was nothing without the Corps, then I _would_ be nothing without the Corps. I could hold my own and it looked like I needed to show that every now and then.

"I won't fight you in the library, Hufflepuff. If you're so offended, challenge me at the next dueling club meeting. Then we'll see how badly I need my _bodyguards_."

"You shouldn't have done that," Blaise murmured as soon as we were in the hallway. "He could make life difficult for Steph."

"It doesn't matter what you think I should do. That needed to happen." Once I hand Ernie his ass at the next meeting, I'll be in a position of strength. Then I can reveal the Legacy and make an announcement to the Dueling Club, who will then circulate my message to the rest of the school. "I've got a plan."

"Don't you always," Daphne grumbled under her breath.

I was going to throw in a snarky remark but stopped dead at the sight before us.

The torches in the corridor were extinguished by some gust of wind from the open windows, leaving the hall cold and dark, but there was just enough light for me to see two shapes on the ground near the middle of the corridor.

"Blaise. Get a professor here. Now," I ordered stiffly, though not nearly as stiff as the Petrified figures of Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick.


	7. Chapter 7

"This is out of my hands, Miss Wyncrest."

I don't think I'll ever forget the look Professor McGonagall sent my way when she came through the corridor, Blaise in tow. Professor Flitwick and a woman I vaguely recognized as the Astronomy professor were not far behind. As Professor McGonagall spoke to me, the other two professors bustled about trying to transport both Nearly Headless Nick and Justin to the Hospital Wing.

"Professor, you don't under—"

"That's enough, Mr. Zabini. You and Miss Greengrass will do well to return to Slytherin's common room immediately."

"But—"

"That is quite enough. Keep speaking and it will be points off, Mr. Zabini. Miss Wyncrest, come this way."

I looked to Daphne and Blaise.

"Mirrors," was all I said. I knew that they'd understand. Both nodded before allowing themselves to be hurried along the corridor just as a sea of students seemed to swarm about. I was vaguely aware of Ernie accusing me but I was already too far down the corridor to care much. I couldn't have turned if I wanted, in any case; Professor McGonagall had a vice-grip on my shoulder as she led me a way I'd never been before, stopping in front of a huge stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" she uttered. At the code, the gargoyle leapt aside as the wall behind it split in two. I had a very sudden realization of what this was: Dumbledore's office. Was I going to be expelled?

Professor McGonagall hastened me through the stone staircase and a small landing and into what I presumed was the office itself. Once I was inside, she promptly left, telling me that the Headmaster would see me momentarily.

If I had been anyone else, I'm sure I would have been terrified to be left alone in Dumbledore's office. I wasn't, though. I had been pushed through darkened hallways by people I can't remember, haunting by dreams and memories of terrible power and so many noises. Being in Dumbledore's office was surprisingly calming.

I didn't do anything wrong. Dumbledore was a brilliant man. He would be able to connect the dots well enough to let me out of here relatively painlessly.

I was finishing examining the multitude of spindly instruments across the desk when a strange, gagging sound caught my attention I whirled around, only to see—

"Fawkes," I murmured softly. I'd seen the phoenix on a number of occasions. It was impossible to have not, with my father so closely related to Dumbledore's ideals. This wasn't the Fawkes I normally saw, however. His beautiful plumage had paled and his eyes looked on me with none of their usual brightness. "What's happening to us, eh?"

Fawkes trilled softly at my voice before a horrific shudder went through him. I watched, captivated, as the phoenix quite suddenly burst into flames. Within seconds, Fawkes was gone, leaving just a pile of ash on the floor. I felt the need to kneel at the pile of ashes and, just as I extended my hand towards the still-hot ash, the reborn phoenix poked it small head out of the gray. He pushed his head against my hand and I smiled.

"Incredibly creatures, aren't they?" I froze at the voice before forcing myself to relax. "It's a shame you had to see him on a burning day, Corrine."

"He seems so… helpless," I murmured. My hand was still as Fawkes poked at it warily before nodding clumsily. At the permission, I gently scooped the baby phoenix up into my hands and stood to face Dumbledore. He seemed surprised.

"Fawkes allows few people to touch him, especially when he's had a burning day. You should feel honored."

"He probably just feels the natural magic," I said, trying not to feel too proud. Dumbledore's eyes sparkled brightly as he held out his hands for the tiny phoenix. I gently returned Fawkes to him and he placed his familiar on a soft pillow I hadn't noticed before on his desk.

Then, the gentleness he had donned when tending to Fawkes all but left. He sat slowly at his desk, eyes fixed on me.

"Do you know why I wanted you brought here, Corrine?" he asked curiously, weaving his fingers together atop his desk. I tried to choose my next words carefully. Dumbledore was famous for his ability to read people but I wasn't sure what he would see if he looked at me anymore.

"I'm guessing that you want to know if I have information regarding the attacks or the Chamber of Secrets. Headmaster… Do you honestly believe that I'm behind these attacks?"

"You remind me very much of a student I once had. He was exceedingly bright, like you, but… I must ask you, Corrine, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me. Anything at all."

His voice was gentle but I wasn't certain. Dumbledore was drawing parallels between myself and a former student? He could be comparing me to almost anyone—he's been teaching so long that he's had some sort of impact on the majority of Wizarding Britain's population—but I got the feeling that his comparison wasn't so innocent. I didn't like the way he left off.

Until I was sure of what side the Headmaster was on—and what side _I_ was on, if I was on any of them—I would keep my mouth shut.

"No. There isn't anything, Professor."

"I see…" He sounded slightly disappointed but, at the same time, unsurprised. I was surprised when he offered me a lemon drop and bade me good night, adding that I was free to come to his office whenever I needed him.

As if I'd need him.

The Corps was starting to feel the effects of the suspicions against me. Note sales had gone down—not dangerously, but enough to be noticed—but we had a rise in practical lessons, so many that Harry couldn't be expected to moderate them all as he had done before. When we established a schedule to let Harry have more time to work on his personal studies, many people dropped out. No one wanted to be in a practical moderated by myself or the Slytherin members of the Corps.

Ron and Neville were cornered by some older Gryffindor boys neither recognized. The reason, apparently, was for betraying the house. The two managed to fight them off, but not before Neville got a nasty bruise across his temple that, despite Madam Pompfrey's best efforts, wouldn't completely go away.

Steph had trouble from her housemates but a little planted evidence and some false testimony went a long way. I wasn't sure how Professor Sprout handled bullying within her house but I was sure it was pretty severe. Judging by the disheveled and dirty appearances of more than a few Puffs over the next few weeks, I wasn't wrong.

My potions classes with the first years were just… odd. No one knew how to treat me. I shielded them, from the most part, from their worst professor but, according to their housemates, I was demon spawn. Most of the time I was treated like a professor: obeyed and maybe respected at arm's length but held no closer.

Everything else was more subtle; books knocked down in the hallway, students shifting so that there wasn't room to sit at mealtimes, little things going missing. I was startled to realize that, for once, the Slytherins didn't seem to question me even a little. They had, at some point, unanimously decided that I was the heir. They made moves to counter the other houses' hostility against the Corps, becoming one unit with one purpose: making sure we got through the year. My practicals were suddenly filled with older Slytherins.

Christmas holidays came up very soon but I was too impatient. I needed to plan and I needed to be able to do it without the rest of Hogwarts breathing down my necks. With that in mind, the Corps met me three days before term ended. All of us were scheduled to take the train home for the holidays but the Gryffindors—or, more specifically, Ron and Harry—were less excited. They'd gotten it into their heads that they'd be able to trick Draco into revealing something but I knew that the Malfoy heir was a dead end in this case.

"Cor," Hermione greeted, the relief evident in her voice as I entered the abandoned classroom we'd sort of made our own. We had a few rooms spread throughout the castle so that no one could predict where we were meeting at any given time, but the first room we had picked always felt the most comfortable to me.

"I got a little caught up with the first years. Professor Snape wanted me to lead a botany lecture today and—well, it doesn't matter. I'm here now and we have some important things to discuss."

"Are we getting together over break?" Hermione was the only one brave enough to ask. I looked at her closely, asking myself the same thing.

"My family is going to the States for the Yule as we always do. The Corps has grown too much to take everyone out of the country. It'd be suspicious, at the very least. A number of us are from prominent families; it wouldn't take a genius to figure out where you all went. However, I want to maintain contact as much as possible. I'll be returning from the States directly after the Yule and go to my family's house in London. I will be planning our next move then. If you can, endeavor to meet with me before we return so I can brief you on what we'll be trying to do."

"Are we pushing for an inter-house dueling club?" Harry asked, thinking hard as he weighed the options. He had confided in me just a few weeks ago that the Sorting hat had considered him for Slytherin. When he was away from Ron for a while, it became clear why. If you removed Gryffindor influence, the Boy-Who-Lived had a head for throwing a plan together and he was lucky enough that his schemes usually paid off.

"Perhaps. Nothing will be accomplished through Lockhart's idiocy. I'll have to talk extensively with Professor Snape, the Headmaster, and the other house heads. I doubt they'll be as interested if I'm still suspected as the heir of Slytherin."

"You'll have Slytherin behind you the whole way," Blaise assured me. Daphne wasn't so keen.

"That might not help. If all of Slytherin backs her, that might only justify what the other houses think. We should be trying to divert suspicion, not direct it at her."

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, looking up at me and then the boy. "You could lead the club, at least publically. That would divert people's attention from the fact that you're a parselmouth and it might restore a little faith in Cor too. She'd still run it from within but the rest of the school doesn't need to know that, do they?"

I was grinning too much to care that Ron, Neville, and Harry had inched away just a bit from their housemate.

"Oh, Hermione, you would have been a lovely Slytherin," I praised. I looked to Harry. "Would you be up for it? It'd be more work on your end to do."

"Of course I will," he said quickly, reminding me of Daphne's words. _Anyone in the Corps will likely do whatever you ask_.

"We could help with the work," Steph suggested suddenly. I looked at her and she reddened. When I nodded for her to continue, she did, stammering all the while. "W-Well, Luna and I have been talking… And we're not being much help with the Corps-iculum, are we? So we- we were thinking that, maybe, Luna could take on Astronomy and I could take over Arithmancy. That way you and Blaise could help Harry more with Defense."

She fell silent and I considered her idea. It did make sense, now that we had two new members, to rebalance the workload. We'd have to be careful in how we did it, though, because of how much the original members of the Corps had gotten done. The first years would have to go above and beyond to grasp the material they'd be working with. Then again… _whatever you ask_.

"I'll take a look at how things are divided over the break. We'll all meet once the new term begins and I'll alert you if there are any changes. For now, continue with the Corps-iculum as if nothing's changed." Returning to the idea of the dueling club, I turned to Harry. "If you are going to publically lead the dueling club, we'll need to plan over the holidays. Could you kindly alert the Dursleys that Lady Wyncrest requests your presence over the winter break?"

"Gladly," Harry grinned.

"Good… Now… Next." I ran through my mental to-do list. "The Malfoys… Draco has been challenging me to show my hand just as his father has been badgering my parents about a betrothal. Once it becomes clear that I am an heir to Slytherin, those requests will become more serious and more frequent."

"Do you think we can afford to lose Draco this early?" Daphne asked me with concern. While Draco was a bit of a prat, the Malfoy name was absurdly powerful and his dad held a lot of weight even within Hogwarts. However, I liked our chances.

"We have the future Lady Greengrass, Lord Longbottom, Lady Wyncrest, Lady Steighan, and Lord Potter at this table. And that is just our titles. That doesn't include whatever jobs we'll land ourselves in after school."

"So what would you have us do?" Neville asked intently. I looked at him, really studying him.

"I want the Longbottom, Steighan, and Greengrass families to formally ally themselves to House Wyncrest. I don't want this to be immediate. Lord Malfoy can't suspect how tight this Corps is until we're ready to rip the carpet out from under him."

"Cor, he's dangerous. My dad's had dealings with him in the past," Ron warned me, looking distinctly uncomfortable with mentioning the Malfoy-Weasley feud that's been happening over the past forty years.

"I'm well aware, Ron. My family's been dodging him ever since I was born."

"How would we ally our families? I don't know anything about high society," Harry admitted freely. It wasn't his fault he didn't know.

"We'll have to go to Gringotts after the Yule. If your parents made a will, it was filed with the goblins. They'll have a copy of it and, depending on the stipulations of the will, they will be able to read it for you. Your parents might have elected someone regent to House Potter or assigned you godparents. We'd have to talk to them to form an alliance before you reach the age of majority."

"I could have godparents?"

"I'd be surprised if you didn't. The likely candidates for your godfather would be your father's friends—Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Frank Longbottom."

"Frank?" Harry asked, looking at Neville. The second year was very visibly pale as he nodded.

"My dad," he confirmed a little shakily. I pressed on, wishing to take the conversation away from the Longbottoms. Neville would tell the rest of the Corps when he was ready.

"With luck, your godfather is Sirius Black. If that's the case, you could petition the Ministry to be legally emancipated. If you're emancipated, you can take the lordship immediately and we wouldn't need an intermediary. Of course, you'd have to deal with Wizarding society but my family would be backing you until you get your feet under you."

Harry's head was positively spinning.

"But we'll talk about that more during break. Right now we've got just a few other things to discuss."

"Such as?" Daphne asked with a frown.

"I have been looking into Slytherin's monster. Obviously it would be some sort of snake and, though there are a few tops picks, when you consider what has been happening here, only one seems really very likely."

"You think you know what it is?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I think, and I certainly hope that I'm wrong, that Slytherin's monster is a basilisk. That would be why you've been hearing voices, Harry. You're hearing it communicate to the heir."

"And I hear them most before an attack." Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Wait. Why can I hear them and you can't? Aren't you a parselmouth too?"

"My gift is unrealized. My cousin has notes and books on Parseltongue and parselmagic that we'll be able to look through together over winter break. Until I unlock the gift, I won't be able to hear it."

"How could Harry hear it? Wouldn't the rest of the school have heard hissing all over the place?" Ron asked.

"Maybe the Nargles made them think it was the wind," Luna said very seriously. "This castle can get frightfully drafty in the winter, you know."

"I thought basilisks' gaze killed," Daphne said thoughtfully. I nodded.

"If seen directly, yes, eye contact is deadly. But no one who's been attacked was looking directly at the monster, were they? When Mrs. Norris was attacked, there was water on the floor. When Colin was attacked, he had his camera. Even Justin was looking through Nearly Headless Nick. And Nick's a ghost, so he obviously can't die again."

"We need to tell someone then!" Hermione realized, getting up as if to fetch Professor McGonagall that exact minute. I grabbed her wrist.

"And say what? That the supposed heiress of Slytherin told her tight-knit group of friends what the monster of Slytherin is? The Headmaster already believes that I'm the one behind the attacks. I'd say a solid third of the staff does."

"Cor, that's not—" Hermione deflated at the look I sent her.

"Colin was attacked that night I spent in the infirmary. The professors all thought I was asleep but I could hear them. Dumbledore thinks it's me, meaning that most of the staff at least considered it. Ironically, the only one I know doesn't think it's me is the one staff member I've told about the Legacy."

"You've told a professor?" Ron gasped. Steph frowned.

"Professor Snape?" She guessed. "You seem quite close with him."

"Yes, I've told him."

"Cor." Neville went terribly pale once more. "The Legacy said that there was someone with a stronger claim, right?"

"It did," I acknowledged warily.

"Have you—Have you considered your brothers?" he suggested as if he'd rather swallow his own tongue than meet my eyes. I expected some sort of rush of anger at the suspicion that either of my brothers had anything to do with the attacks but all I could do was think to myself, weighing the odds of it either way.

"It is possible, but not probable. As far as I'm aware, I'm the only one in the family who's had a Legacy done. Mama wouldn't have told Damien and she trusted me to tell Bass when I was ready." Neville seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and I smiled good-naturedly. "It was a good idea, Nev, and something I hadn't considered. Keep it up."

He took that small acknowledgement happily and sat a little straighter in his chair.

"So the monster is probably a basilisk and the only ones aware of the fact are a bunch of second and first years who can't tell a professor without having their best friend and leader expelled?" Daphne summarized.

"I need to plan," I hummed. "And I need to become a fully realized parselmouth as quickly as possible."

"I'm sure Hagrid could find us a snake," Harry offered in an attempt to be helpful. I couldn't help but quirk a smile at the innocent suggestion.


	8. Chapter 8

Christmas holidays couldn't come soon enough. While the schoolwork felt reasonably manageable- especially considering that most of second year had already been worked through over the summer- things got progressively tough for the Corps as time went on. We all needed a break and Christmas provided a very welcome distraction.

All of a sudden, we were on the Express and then back in London. My parents came for Harry, Bass, and I while Damien, after hardly speaking two words to me or Bass, went off with the Weasleys. Ron shot me an apologetic glance before promising to keep me up to date with whether Damien suspected anything with the Corps.

I don't think I'd ever been so happy to be able to relax. Of course, I wasn't able to relax at all.

I frowned at the caramel burmese python Mama had gotten for me and Harry to practice speaking to. The snake was a beautiful creature, only a foot long, but I knew that, given a few years, it could be nearly twelve feet long. I'm not quite sure why Mama felt the need to get such a large snake but, for better or for worse, it would stay with Harry and I until we could speak parseltongue fluently.

"I think I'm going insane," I declared as the snake sat there on the desk uselessly. Harry was doing much better at unlocking his gift but I wasn't giving up any time soon.

"It'll come to you," Harry tried to reassure me. I knew he felt awkward, though. It was bizarre for both of us for me to be so outclassed. And I was an heir of Slytherin! Shouldn't this come easily to me?

I groaned in frustration. Then, suddenly, the snake hissed something. Harry started laughing and hissed back quietly. I clenched my fist.

"_**What's so funny?"**_ I asked dangerously. The snake looked at me, startled.

"_**You're a speaker as well?"**_

"_**You did it!"**_ Harry cheered. It sounded weird to me, though, as if two Harry's were speaking at once. I could very clearly hear him speak to me but, just layered over that, I could hear a strangled hiss as well. Was this parseltongue?

"_**I did it?"**_ I echoed, unsure. I could hear it in my own voice as well, the layering of my-voice and not-my-voice.

"_**Two speakers in one week!"**_ The python wriggled in delight and very suddenly left its place on the desk to slither towards me. Without a care, it coiled around my wrist as I had seen it do to Harry just two days ago, when he managed to first speak to the young python. _**"Others say there are no speakers left- but there are two in this room!"**_

The longer I listened to the snake, the more evident it became that the python was a young male. I cleared my throat, a little over conscious of the fact that the python was clinging to me tighter and tighter and it wound further up my arm.

"_**What are you called, young speaker?"**_ he asked.

"_**Cor. And you?"**_

"_**Hmm... I haven't needed a name yet... Perhaps... Call me Vittat. Yes, Vittat will do nicely."**_

"_**Vittat,"**_ I repeated the name slowly, feeling how it rolled off of my tongue as I listened to both my-voice and not-my-voice. "Vittat."

"_**Cor..."**_ The snake gave me an odd look that I could almost _feel_ was disapproving. _**"That won't do. Cor is not a mighty name. I feel the strong-magic in your veins, though. You must have a hunter-name."**_

"_**A hunter-name?"**_ I repeated. Vittat nodded solemnly.

"_**A hunter-name. A name to strike fear in prey's hearts and spread respect in enemy lairs."**_

"_**Harry was good enough," **_the second year said suddenly, a little put off. Vittat gave a strange shudder and I realized he was laughing.

"_**Harry is good enough for Harry. Harry doesn't carry the strong-magic."**_

"_**Do you mean my ley link? The natural magic?"**_

"_**Natural magic,"**_ the snake repeated slowly before shaking his head. _**"Strong-magic is strong-magic. And you need a hunter-name."**_

"_**... So? What is my hunter-name?"**_

"_**You need to find that yourself, young speaker. Once you have your hunter-name, my brethren will answer to it."**_

"_**All of your brethren? What about a basilisk?"**_ Vittat immediately tensed around my arm so tightly I thought he would cut off the circulation to my hand.

"_**A basilisk? You mean to say you've found an All-King? Where?"**_ The python was so eager to meet the basilisk that I felt almost bad shaking my head.

"_**We only know vaguely where the All-King is. He is at our school,"**_ I said, gesturing to Harry and I with my other hand. _**"He has been attacking students, though, and we need the attacks to end."**_

"_**So tell him that. Even an All-King will recognize a hunter-speaker. A hunter-speaker with the strong-magic..."**_ Vittat gave an excited shiver before seeming to realize something. _**"I see! You need to find your hunter-name! That is why I was brought here!"**_

"_**Um... Actually, we really just needed to learn how to control parseltongue,"**_ Harry admitted. Vittat acted as if he hadn't spoken.

"_**Hunter-speaker, you must bring me to this... school so that I can meet with the All-King."**_

The python seemed so determined, I could only nod my head. For the first time in what felts like years, I was taken aback. I had no idea how to handle this and it scared me. With this talk of hunter-speakers and strong-magic, I was far out of my depth and I didn't like it one bit.

Shakily, I agreed, glad that only Harry was there to see me so unsure. If it had been the rest of the Corps, I don't know if I could have stood for it.

* * *

Like last year, the Yule didn't effect me nearly as much as it did that first disastrous year. Vittat, for whatever reason, stayed at my side the entire time, even when I passed out near the end of the night. When I awoke in my own bed- not St. Mungo's- he was coiled up on my lap.

The moment I woke up, he stirred and swivelled his head to look at me.

"_**The strong-magic will never leave you,"**_ he said with complete certainty. _**"It will grow stronger within you, hunter-speaker, and you because of it."**_

"_**Are you saying that the ley link will grow more powerful?"**_ The worried me. The first time, I had nearly killed my father. If Vittat was right, what would I do if it burst out like it did that night? Speaking had apparently drained Vittat of all energy and his head drifted back down. I grumbled to myself as Vittat fell into a deep sleep, trapping me beneath him.

"Naia," I called softly. There was a loud crack as the house-elf Apparated into my room, a bright smile on her face.

"The young miss has awoken! Mistress will be so pleased. How is the young miss feeling?" Naia asked me jovially.

"Wonderful, actually. Could you ask Mama when Harry and I can leave for the London home? We still have an awful lot of work to do and the break won't last too much longer."

"Of course! Naia will be bringing you lunch as well."

"Thank you, Naia."

When Naia returned, lunch in tow, Vittat was still sleeping soundly. I ate the minetrone soup without complaint as I listened to her tell me all that had happened since I blacked out.

Bass had invited one of his friends from the summer training program onto the property- he didn't want him to come over during the Yule in case I reacted badly- and the two older boys had been mock dueling with Harry, much to Mama's horror. Since she discovered what they'd been doing, they switched to teaching Bass' American friend quidditch.

Daddy had gone back and forth to work half a dozen times before finally coming to the conclusion that, while I had taken in about an eighth more natural magic than I had last time, there seemed to be no adverse side effects. My magical core had expanded, once more, to compensate for the increase and now the Unspeakables were recommending that I start a daily training regime to maintain the control I held over my magic. The regime would increase in difficulty each month so that, by next Yule, I would be prepared for the intake, assuming it stayed regular.

Harry joined me in the training since Mama had forbade either of us from leaving until after Christmas. As such, through finding the perfect balance of magic to unlock a charmed chest or solve some new riddle, both of us were working to condition our magic. The way spells reacted to the conditioning only made me certain that I needed the entire Corps to practice at these exercises, if only to become stronger.

Part of me wondered why they didn't promote magical conditioning through Hogwarts. Then again, if it was governed by people like Lucius Malfoy, it was a wonder that we managed to learn anything at all.

* * *

As soon as Christmas was over- I got a load of Muggle office supplies from Hermione, a kit full of rare plants from Neville for potion-making, a bunch of chocolate frogs from Ron, a sneakoscope from Blaise, a hand-embroidered silk tapestry bearing the Corps emblem from Daphne, a pair of what looked like radish earrings from Luna, a woven friendship bracelet from Steph in Slytherin and Hufflepuff colors, and a book full of magical conditioning exercises from Harry- I all but demanded that Harry and I be released into London. And so, with promises of the pain I'd be put under if I damaged any of the dozen books Harry and I found interesting in the library that we were borrowing, Mama allowed Naia to take us away to the London home once more, now joined by Vittat.

Once I had gotten over the fact that snakes had a sort of society all their own and a complex culture with it, I got on quite well with Vittat. He seemed intent on teaching me all he knew about the culture that I, as a hunter-speaker, had a right to join. Harry quickly seemed to grow bored and confused when Vittat introduced a new word to the vernacular but I revelled in it. Learning how different snakes held ranks, and how those related to other reptiles all the way up to dragons, was intriguing. Reptiles held a government-like system all their own within the webs of wizarding culture, thrumming quietly and unnoticed to all but a select few.

Studying how everything revolved around an area's All-King or, in the absence of an All-King, a Nest-Lord gave me more than a few ideas on how to run my Corps. In a way, they were my nest.

Despite all the time spent with Vittat, I made no progress in discovering my hunter-name. Vittat assured me that, once I found it, it would resonate with me but it could be _anything_.

Harry and I didn't spend all of our time with Vittat, however. In fact, we couldn't even bring him along on our first errand.

Gringotts was a large and imposing place but I put on my best and professional heiress mask as I led Harry inside. I stepped up to an available goblin, hoping that my voice wouldn't crack mid-word.

"Corrine of House Wyncrest and Harry of House Potter," I introduced. "I arranged for an appointment with Head Warvis the Third."

The goblin bared in teeth in a gruesome smile but I knew better than to show anything other than a cool resolve. I did, however, shift my head to bear my neck ever so slightly. The goblin acknowledged the gesture by narrowing his eyes before clearing his throat and getting down from his chair.

"I shall take you to Head Warvis. Follow me."

Without another word, he began leading usdown a series of hallways behind the teller counters. After a few minutes of nothing but white marble and dark wood doors, the goblin stopped in front of a door identical to every other, except this one had a small placard reading _Gringotts Head Goblin_ and, above that, _Warvis the Third._

The goblin leading Harry and I knocked on the door twice, upon which a voice from within called out for us to enter.

"Miss Wyncrest and Mr. Potter to see you, sir."

"Very well. Return to the front, Bogrod." At the dismissal, the goblin bowed his head to Warvis before leaving the room. When the door shut behind him, Warvis returned his attention to us. "Miss Wyncrest. Mr. Potter. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Mr. Potter has a need to consult the wills of James and Lily Potter. The Ministry reported that both were filed by Keeper Roucak."

"I see. And the grounds for seeking the wills in question?"

"The grounds that the wills in question was never reviewed by the son of the deceased."

"Curious," Warvis hummed softly to himself before standing up and turning, placing his open palm upon the bare marble wall. As his clawed fingers scratched lightly at the stone, it transformed into wood until he stopped his hand, now on a brass doorknob. Warvis opened the door and snapped his fingers, holding his hand out. I could see nothing within the doorway. It opened to straight darkness. Within seconds, two manilla folders appeared from within the darkness and flew into Warvis' outstretched hand. He closed the door and, by the time he laid the files gently upon his desk, the door had reverted back to solid marble.

"The wills in question," Warvis reported, sliding them closer to Harry. The boy looked at me, unsure, but took a step towards them at my encouraging nod. He opened the first folder cautiously, as if it would bite him. He moved to read it but froze at the first line where James Potter first signed his name.

"Would you like me to?" I asked softly, holding my hand out. Harry snapped out of his daze and nodded, all but throwing the will at me. I skimmed it quickly, trying to process all of the legal jargon. James Potter's will came down to a few things: Harry was to be left in the care of his mother or, if she was not able to care for him, to his godfather, Sirius Black. The Potter vault would be his open his seventh birthday though he would have a trust fund for the duration of his Hogwarts years. The various properties- a manor in Wales, a house in Godric's Hollow, and a flat in Belgravia- were to be overseen by the Potter's three house elves until Harry became of age.

Harry passed me his mother's will next. It said much the same thing, but named Alice Longbottom as his godmother. My hands tightened around the paper at that. If Neville's mum was his godmother, he should have been raised alongside Neville. Alice and Frank weren't tortured to insanity until after the Potter's deaths. Why was Harry put with Muggles if he had a godmother?

My eyes darted to where the witness signed and my brow furrowed at my mother's signature. Had our mothers been that close? And, if so, why didn't my mother fight Harry's placement? She would have fought.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Warvis asked curiously. I looked up from the folder, not quite sure.

"I found what we needed, yes," I said distantly. "Can we request certified copies of both wills?"

"Of course. It will take but a few minutes."

"Very well. In the meantime, I think Harry and I should go to our vaults. Could you have someone take us down?"

"I'll send for someone at once."

"Thank you, Head Warvis."

I needed to clear my head.

When Harry and I, accompanied by a goblin Harry recognized as the same goblin who first took him to his vault last year, were finally in the relative privacy of Harry's trust fund vault, he asked me what I'd found.

"Your godfather is Sirius Black, as I suspected. You'll be able to shake that off easily enough. He's been imprisoned in Azkaban for the past ten years or so. Your godmother is, well, Neville's mum."

"Neville's mum?" Harry was so startled he dropped the small sack he'd been filling with gold. He picked it up quickly. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. It complicates things."

"Why? Can't Neville's mum just negotiate the alliance between the houses then?" Harry asked, oblivious. I bit my lip.

"It's not my secret to tell... But you need to know. She's your godmother, after all..." I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince me or him of that. "Shortly after Voldemort vanished, there was chaos. The remaining Death Eaters- his followers- were all in a mad scramble. Some were quickly caught but others... went out with a bit of a bang. Neville's parents were Aurors. They'd had a big role in locking away an easy dozen Death Eaters. That made them a target though. Once Voldemort was gone and everyone thought the coast was clear, they came out of hiding. One of Voldemort's most faithful, a foul woman named Bellatrix Lestrange, caught them and tortured them. By the time help came, they... They were tortured to the point of insanity. Neville wasn't even two years old. They might still be alive, but he's as much an orphan as you are, Harry."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, his voice soft and pained. I shrugged.

"I don't know... That's why I was so close to Neville before school, you know? Alice Longbottom was my godmother too. Mama wanted to take care of Neville like Alice would have taken care of me."

"But... if Neville's mum was my godmother, why-"

"Were you sent to your Muggle relatives?" I guessed. I shook my head. "No idea. But I have an idea of who we can talk to about that."

"Well... Whatever it is... it has to wait," Harry said, his voice strengthening. I looked at him with surprise, expecting that he'd want to finish this mystery as quickly as possible. "We've still got to stop the attacks at Hogwarts. That takes priority over this."

"You're such a Gryffindor," I teased half-heartedly.

* * *

Having Alice as Harry's godmother made it much more difficult to emancipate him. In the end, it would be more trouble to try to forcefully emancipate him than wait for him to reach majority. Five years wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things and I doubted he'd waver too far away from me in that time. I could wait.

In the meantime, I had more than enough political support. Lord Greengrass was still on the fence but Augusta Longbottom and Charles Steighan- Steph's dad- seemed pleased to be joining up with the Wyncrest family. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, especially since we tipped the scales away from Malfoy.

The Malfoy's Masque had been an interesting affair, as can be expected. I spent the entire evening moving between members of the Corps, always making sure to be with someone whenever a Malfoy got too close for comfort.

Also true to my word, I did revise the workload between Corps members. While only Hermione managed to physically make it to London, I got word out to everyone on their new positions. I would handle Potions and help Harry with Defense. Daphne would take over Transfiguration in full with Hermione helping her in Charms. Hermione would be in charge of History of Magic and Study of Ancient Runes while, as Steph suggested, Luna took Astronomy and Steph took Arithmancy. Blaise was still working on Divination but would be helping Steph and Luna as needed. Ron was still writing for Care and Muggle Studies while Neville handled Herbology and helped out with Care. Everyone that had changed was brought up on where in each curriculum was that current branch of notes as well as how to move forward. Luckily for Steph and Luna, neither Astronomy nor Arithmancy were in very high demand so the notes hadn't extended more than a year and a half in either subject. They would further them, just in case, but they already had a lot to catch up on to be on par with the rest of the Corps.

The attacks on Muggleborns had almost wormed out of my focus but, of course, nothing could last.

January and February had passed without event. I had hoped it would stay the same for March but, of course, I couldn't have been that lucky.


	9. Chapter 9

Mirrors, I had told Daphne and Blaise that day Justin and Nearly Headless Nick were found. I had meant that we would be contacting the group later using our linked mirrors, of course, but it had a double meaning I didn't intend for it to have.

Hermione was found outside of the library, board stiff, with the Corps mirror in her hand.

Hermione.

I was beyond angry. I was furious. Enraged. Whoever had the audacity to touch one of my friends... They were going to pay. I didn't care if it was the ghost of Merlin himself, I was going to track the arse down and squash him like a bug. Months of meticulous planning fled me. I didn't care what the reaction was as I strode into the Great Hall because this had to happen.

It seemed that silence fell over the entire hall when I slammed the doors open. I was late for dinner and everyone knew why, it seemed. Hermione Granger was petrified. She had joined the victims in the hospital wing. But what did that mean for them suspecting me? Were they right that I was so cold-hearted? Or had they been wrong all along?

"This heir of Slytherin is a coward. Do you hear that? Coward!" My voice seemed to echo throughout the hall as no one moved, no one spoke. "Your claim is disputed though; did you know that? Oh, yes. I'm a descendant of Slytherin too. And now you've screwed up because I don't care if I have to find the Chamber and stop your beast myself. You've come after me now. And if you don't end this now, then I will."

Before I could lose my nerve, I looked up at the head table. Dumbledore looked concerned, and rightly so. If he'd been worried about my mental health before, he was likely considering sending me off to St. Mungo's now. I think Professor McGonagall's face was my favorite, though. She was shocked, of course, but beneath that I could see the confusion and the distress that just barely bordered on regret. She thought it was me. Now she knew for a fact that it wasn't.

I had just one word left for everyone.

"Mirrors."

And I turned and stalked out, heading towards the dungeons. I needed to speak to Vittat and, for whatever reason, I doubted Dumbledore and the other staff members would welcome him with open arms. As a result, he spent his time in one of the secluded dungeon rooms, basking in the warmth of a jar of bluebell flames Hermione had made for him.

"Vittat. I need to speak to you," I called as soon as I was in the room. I couldn't see him or the light of the flames but that was just a precaution. He was safe, hidden away under a forgotten desk. It took a moment for the python to respond but, in the cooler dungeons, I wasn't surprised.

"Hunter-speaker. Have you found your name?"

"No, not yet. Have you made any progress finding the All-King?"

"I hear him but cannot see him. He moves through the walls in paths unfamiliar to me. It will take time to learn how he enters and exits. Until then, I can only wait."

"We can't just wait, Vittat. Hermione was just attacked. She's petrified." Vittat stiffened at the name, recognizing it.

"Nest-Hermione was petrified by the All-King? The egg-breaker's power has grown more as I feared. We must find the All-King."

"I'm well aware of that," I hissed back testily. Vittat slipped out from under the desk completely, flicking his tongue out.

"This air is far too stale. We must go above ground if I am to find him quickly."

"Come here. You're still small enough to hide in my sleeve," I said softly, appreciating the risk he was taking more than I could verbalize. Vittat put himself at risk of falling under this new heir's power if the two of them got too close. I simply couldn't tell if the other heir was a stronger hunter-speaker than I was and, until we knew, it was anyone's bet.

I slipped out of the dungeons and into the entrance hall. I was at the staircases when my pocket began to burn. I didn't pull the mirror our, however. I knew what the Corps would say and it was nothing I needed to hear.

"Left," Vittat chimed once I got to the second floor. I changed my course, following his nose.

"We're close... so close. We must be at the entrance now."

Maybe it was because I didn't want to die in the Chamber of Secrets, but something made me look up and see where I was. I was next to the message that had appeared when Mrs. Norris was attacked. It was different, though. Now a second message, written in the same blood-red paint, was gleaming in the torchlight.

Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.

Someone was taken. A basilisk couldn't have managed that, though; it must have been a student. I scowled and flung the door open, nearly throwing Vittat off of my arm with the sudden movement.

If I was truly a hunter-speaker, I should be able to assuage the basilisk. If the other heir was in the Chamber... Well, I'd rather not think of that.

"Oh, have you come to bother me too? It's bad enough with that skinny witch coming in here and disturbing me. Get out!" Myrtle was lounging on the floor, tracing a tile with a finger when I entered. Upon seeing me, her face turned an almost creamy white that, had she been alive, must have been positively red with anger.

"Myrtle!" I called just as the furious ghost moved towards me threateningly. She stopped dead, cocking her head at me. "I'm not here to bother you. I'm looking for the Chamber of Secrets."

"The Chamber of Secrets? What do you want with that nasty old place?" Her voice dropped to a scandalized whisper. "Of course you would want to go there. It's all over the castle by now, even in my U-bend. The new heir to Slytherin, ready to slaughter us all. It's a pity, then, that I'm already dead!"

"I'm not trying to kill anyone!" I growled. "Do you know where the entrance is or not?"

"Hem. I might," she sniffed delicately. "Why don't you go ask Little Miss Ginger? She seems to know it like the back of her hand by now."

"I don't have time for this... Myrtle, are you saying that you saw the heir of slytherin?"

"I don't know. I was just sitting in my toilet, thinking about death, when-"

I scowled, not wanting to admit that she was positively barmy, and walked towards the sinks, looking in the mirror. As my eyes traveled down, Vittat gave an excited wiggle.

"There! There!"

"Mrytle... Do you remember the last thing you saw before, you know...?"

"Before I died?" she asked harshly. All harshness suddenly left her face and the ghastly anger was replaced with an excited sort of fear. "I'll never forget... A pair of great, big yellow eyes... right at that sink."

Vittat wriggled out from under my sleeve to fall gracelessly into the sink. He didn't care, though, as he nudged his head against the copper tap. With closer inspection, I could just barely make out a tiny snake, scratched into the metal.

"It's here," I breathed. "The sink. There's a snake carved here... If it was made for Slytherin's heirs, only they would have been able to open it... Open," I commanded, dropping my voice to a whisper. At the parseltongue, the sink began to shudder and move downwards. I scooped Vittat out of the sink before he could get too far away and he curled about my arm once more, hissing excitedly to himself. The sink sank further and further before sliding away, revealing a large exposed pipe. I looked down it, seeing only black.

"Well. I was never one for empty threats."

Steeling my nerve, I shifted Vittat so I wouldn't crush him at the bottom of the pipe and let myself fall into the dark. With the wind rushing about me, I almost didn't hear Mrytle's invitation to join me in her bathroom if I died.


	10. Chapter 10

The descent down was exhilarating and, had it been under different circumstances, it might have even been fun. The landing wasn't so nice but I would accept being dusty and covered in slime as opposed to being dead.

"Lumos maxima!" I said, flicking my wand up. A bright ball of light extended from my wand, shooting upward and illuminating the pipelines I was standing in. The light threw my shadow against the walls in gross, distorted ways. Vittat led the way, his scales sliding noiselessly against the damp stone floor.

"The All-King is here. The last-molt is beyond the bend," Vittat reported, scouting ahead.

"I understand."

It was hard for me to even think those words upon seeing the size of the snakeskin. It was easily twenty feet long and, though Vittat was likely to reach twelve to sixteen feet, this beast was over twice as wide as a man's torso. But that didn't make sense. Why bother petrifying students if the beast could simply swallow them whole?

"Fear," I murmured to Vittat. "This All-King could swallow students whole but the heir had it deliberately attack, pick them off one by one, just to create hysteria."

After what felt like an hour, we were finally past the snakeskin. At the end, around another bend, was a solid wall upon which two entwined serpents were carved. Their eyes were inlaid with huge, glittering emeralds. I distantly noted that the color wasn't unlike Harry's eyes.

"Open."

We walked through, unimpeded, after the serpents slithered away and opened a hidden door.

"This is it. This is the lair of the All-King," Vittat hissed reverently. I swallowed, slightly less enthused about the news.

Despite my every instinct, I kept my eyes up. According to Vittat, hunter-speakers were largely immune to basilisk's eyes. If I wasn't a hunter-speaker, then I was dead either way.

I led the others down the corridor, following the path Vittat set. As I looked further down the path, however, my heart skipped a beat. I forced myself to breathe.

I hurried the pace until, after an excruciatingly long wait, it became clear who the latest victim was.

"Ginny," I breathed. I resisted every urge I felt to slip my wand into my robes and run to her side. Instead, I approached more cautiously than ever, my wand firmly grasped in my hand and my eyes sweeping the chamber. After what felt like hours of creeping along, I was finally at the first year's side. A distant part of my mind recognized the presence of a leather-bound diary just a yard away, lying forgotten in a puddle.

I studied Ginny as professionally as I could, trying to ignore that this was Ron's baby sister lying almost dead at my feet, and things just didn't add up. It felt wrong, just like I had felt wrong after my first Yule.

"This wasn't the basilisk. They can kill and they can petrify but Ginny's... I can feel it. It's like... it's like her magic, her life force is being pulled out of her."

"Very astute of you." I whirled around to see the newcomer. "Of course you were the parselmouth. After that showing in the Great Hall- well. I'm afraid you've shown your hand."

I didn't quite understand what I was seeing. A tall, black-haired boy, probably Bass' age, was leaning against one of the pillars, simply watching. He wore Slytherin colors but I didn't recognize him. I leveled my wand at him warily.

"Don't bother. I'm afraid you can't do anything, little girl. Only watch as Ginny grows weaker, and I grow stronger," the boy grinned.

"So you're the heir of Slytherin? You're the one who opened the Chamber?"

"Yes," he admitted casually. "But also no. I am the heir of Salazar Slytherin, but I didn't open the Chamber. That was our dear little Ginny. It was she who strangled the school roosters and wrote on the walls. She is the one who set the Serpent of Slytherin on the Mudbloods and the Squib's cat."

"Ginny isn't a parselmouth. She couldn't have controlled the basilisk," I said, more to myself than the boy. He laughed, a high and cold laugh that sent an involuntary shudder down myself. Before he could speak again, however, I narrowed my eyes at him. He was a phantom, but not a ghost. I could sense an echo of magic coming off of him but, as he had implied earlier, it was weak. As I concentrated harder, I could half-see faint tendrils of Ginny's silvery power rising up from her still body and swirling gently around the teenager.

"You're a leech," I murmured softly. "Living off of Ginny's life force. You've somehow gotten her under your control, despite the fact that you're hardly more than a memory... And now... You're taking her magic into yourself, trying to become what you once were. But what do you plan to do then? A first year doesn't have a large enough magical core to provide the raw power that would be needed to create a new body for you. You would be slightly stronger, but still a phantom."

"Such a clever little witch. Dearest Ginny's spoken of you, Corinne," the boy said, my name rolling off of his tongue in a way that forced me to repress a shudder. "Talented, popular, even pretty- oh how she loathes you!" he finished gleefully.

"So you exchanged more than energy. By talking to you, sharing things with you, she allowed you deeper into her mind," I reasoned, trying my best to recall what I learned about mind magic during my Occlumency lessons with Daddy. My eyes flicked back to the diary on the floor. "She opened her mind to you, bared her soul, probably thinking that you were simply an enchanted toy. That's how you're able to draw so much strength from her now."

"Ah, but of course. What better a tool to ensnare a little girl's mind than a diary? I allowed her to vent out her frustrations- and she had very many- and she let me slip further and further in. It was almost funny how she first reacted when she realized what she was doing... What I was doing through her. 'Oh, Tom, I don't understand what's wrong with me! I can't remember anything at all from last night! Tom, someone's killed the school roosters... There are feathers all over my sheets; could it have been me? I think I'm losing my mind!'" the teenager, Tom, mocked, his voice annoyingly sharp and loud.

"So what are you, then?" I asked in almost a whisper, studying the figure before me with new eyes. He was more dangerous than he seemed and I could feel Ginny's life slipping farther and farther away as he bantered with me, taunting me, almost monologuing. "Who are you?"

"Don't you see, little witch? Or are you less clever than I thought? That would be a shame... I had hopes of you joining my cause." Cause? What cause could he accomplish with- A basilisk, Slytherin's monster. Parseltongue. Leech? Possession. Quirrel!

The puzzle pieces clicked and a wave of nausea washed over me. Something must have shown on my face because a vicious grin spread over Tom's handsome features. He drew what I somehow knew was Ginny's wand and began flicking it through the air. Though I was prepared to defend myself, he was only creating fiery letters that burned and hissed in the damp air.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

I watched as the words rearranged themselves with another flick of his stolen wand.

I am Lord Voldemort.

Another flick and the letters were gone, leaving nothing between me and Tom's smirking face.

"You haven't spoken, Corinne. What's wrong?" he purred.

My tongue felt heavy, as did every bone in my body. My instincts urged me to run but I couldn't leave Ginny here. I couldn't fight, or I would be killed and Ginny would die anyway. I had no time to summon help. No time to-

Shut up! I commanded my wayward thoughts. Options. I need options.

Option one: I could run, and let Ginny die and Tom take on all of her power. Ginny's death would be tragic and her blood would be on my hands, probably distancing myself from the entire Weasley family and a great deal of Gryffindor house. Tom wouldn't be at his full strength but he would be stronger, allowing him to seek out more powerful hosts and slowly scrape his way back to his true form. He would eventually gain a body and try very hard to kill the friends and allies I'd managed to make in my time here.

Option two: I could fight and the basilisk would be summoned. I could lose control of Vittat as well as never gain control of the basilisk who would then kill me. Then Ginny would die and Voldemort would be free to do as he pleased with none being the wiser.

Option three: I fight and the basilisk isn't summoned or is willing to take my side over Voldemort's. I somehow destroy Tom's memory, probably by destroying the diary- that seems to be the thing tethering his existence to this world- and Ginny and I both live. The basilisk would have to be dealt with but would hopefully be reasonable. Ginny and I get to return to the surface and I might even win the house cup again.

That didn't seem likely but was definitely preferable.

Option four: I talk my way out of every inch of shit I've landed myself in. Chances of this succeeding are around zero. I'd be engaging in a battle of wits with one of the most charming and convincing individuals to grace Hogwarts' halls. Talking would only delay the inevitable, though. To get out of this with Ginny and myself alive by talking inherently meant having Voldemort get off scot free and ready to prey upon his next victim. It meant making him a deal.

I didn't like any of my choices. But I was no Gryffindor.

"My apologies, my friend. This is a private matter..." I murmured softly. I whipped out my wand and, before Tom could even hope to react, stunned Vittat before he could so much as hiss in protest. I didn't need him accidentally tipping Tom off. As soon as the python was safely paralyzed, I forced myself to glare at Tom Marvolo Riddle with as much venom as I could manage.

What has my life even become? I lamented to myself before laying into the act.

"What's wrong?! You're making me show my hand and to all the wrong people!" That threw him for a moment. Before old Tommy boy could speak, I continued, taking care to sheath my wand. I'm not a threat to you... Hear me out. "You must know how difficult it is to get your plans started early into Hogwarts without getting the old fool's eye on you. Why couldn't you have just waited another couple of years until I had the bloody school under my control before pulling a stunt like this? It's inconsiderate, is what this is."

"You? Little Miss Perfect has plans for domination?" Tom asked with a disbelieving smirk. I rolled my eyes.

"Please. I'll leave total world domination to my betters. I wouldn't say no to a corner of the world, though. I've been laying out the groundwork for almost two years now, too. I've already got Dumbledore's Golden Boy in my corner, not to mention half a dozen Pure-blood families at my back. Throw in a Mudblood or a couple of blood traitors to throw off suspicion and the chessboard is set. But then you had to come in and start trouble."

"Start trouble? I am following in the steps of the great Salazar Slytherin, an ancestor we seem to share. Don't you want to revel in his legacy? To live out his dream?" The young Voldemort asked me calculatingly. I carefully kept a smirk on my lips.

"And how has that worked out for you? Your older self got too careless with his victories. He can't bask in the glory of putting the world the way it ought to be. What makes you think you'll be different?"

"He was a fool," Tom hissed. Defensive. Good. "Defeated at the hands of a mere child- I am far stronger than the shadow beaten that Halloween."

"A shadow indeed... But your other self is trying to return to strength just as fervently as you. Even last year, he took control of a weak professor here. I had to defeat him, of course, for appearance's sake but I know that he, or what's left of him, will try again. What would happen, I wonder, if the two of you were to meet..." I drifted off. "After all, if I were in your place, I wouldn't want to share the crown, especially with a shade that was defeated by an infant."

"What are you suggesting?" Tom was wary but there was a curious gleam in his eyes that I occasionally saw in Bass'. He wouldn't try to kill me just yet. He would hear me out first before deciding his verdict.

It was the best I could have hoped for.

"I'm suggesting... that your older self is no longer fit for rule. He doesn't have a body right now, nor a conduit for his soul; he's probably just scraping by through the possession of unworthy beasts. Ginny, lying near dead at our feet, would be a more fit leader. Or..."

"Say what you mean, girl," Tom hissed impatiently. I smiled as brightly as I dared.

"Let me help you regain your strength. Let me help you rise to power. Leave Ginny here, alive, and let me claim to the old fool that I've slain the beast for the Light. He gets his poster child, the school remains open for me to take, and you are in a position of strength. You can grow even stronger, gain a body with none being the wiser. And then, when all is prepared, you can strike where the old fool is weak."

"The Ministry is stronger than you think, girl. What you suggest will take not months but years."

"I'm not a fool. In the eyes of this world, and even you, I'm a child. I need the next few years to gain strength even more than you do. But I can't help but think that the defeat of the old regime would make a fantastic graduation present, don't you agree?"

Tom stared at me for a long time, weighing his options. I could only hope that I'd presented enough incentive for him to keep me alive a bit longer.


	11. Chapter 11

"You present me with an interesting offer, girl. I never expected this, regardless of your house. What a coup it would be if the Golden Girl herself made a name for herself as one of the Darkest witches of all time." Tom was musing, mulling it over.

"A coup indeed," I let myself chuckle. "Of course- assuming you let me live- I'll have to revise my plans quite a bit. I would be grateful for your guidance, though."

"I suppose I'll let you live," he decided. "But before we make plans, our immediate course of action must be decided."

"Your memory, your soul... It is tied to your diary, correct?" I asked, cautious. Tom's eyes were guarded but he couldn't be too threatened by my to kill me now.

"It is."

"Then I suggest you return to the diary for now. If Ginny dies now, I doubt Dumbledore would be lenient on me, even if I can't be blamed for the attacks due to the attack on Hermione, my Mudblood. But I won't make you trust me so heavily so quickly. I propose a truce. I won't attempt to harm your diary, and you won't attempt to possess or otherwise harm me."

"You want an oath?" Tom looked as if the idea was ridiculous.

"I do. I'm prepared to swear it upon my magic." Dad had a theory on this, too. Normally, an oath made on the grounds of magic was only centered on a witch or wizard's own energy. If the same held true for me, then I would still be able to rely upon my ley link for magic. As a matter of fact, it'd probably be safer for me if my own magic were locked away. If I couldn't use it, I couldn't deplete it. Then I could use as much magic as I wanted without fearing that I'd draw upon my life force.

"Very well. I will as well." Tom offered me his hand and I was held back a shudder at the realization that he'd taken so much of Ginny's life that he was nearly tangible now. It was enough contact for an oath.

I took his cold hand, drawing my wand.

"Do you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, swear upon your magic to not possess or harm Corinne Lisbetta Wyncrest for the duration of the alliance between us?"

"I do," he said seriously. "Do you, Corinne Lisbetta Wyncrest, swear upon your magic to not harm or attempt the destroy the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle for the duration of the alliance between us, so long as it is needed?"

"I do."

A bright golden chain appeared, binding our hands before shattering. Tom dropped my hand a moment later.

"I will release my hold on the Weasley. Keep the diary safe and out of sight." As he spoke, the silvery energy of Ginny's life force began to bleed out of Tom, making the outline of him blurry once more. "I'd appreciate if you could keep the basilisk alive but I understand collateral. It is your decision."

"Thank you... Tom," I said, unsure of what I should call him. To my surprise, he smirked.

"Don't get use to it, Corinne."

With that, he vanished, his aura retreating into the diary and the last of the magical vapor disappearing into Ginny. Before she could wake, I sent a quick stunner at her, glad beyond words that I insisted that the Corps learn that spell over the summer.

I had loose ends to tie.

"Rennervate," I murmured to Vittat. The snake shuddered back to wakefulness and I wasn't offended when his first interest was in nipping at my leg. "I deserved that."

"You deserved much more than that. Why did you stun me?" Vittat hissed, enraged.

"I already had to talk my way out of trouble with Voldemort himself; I couldn't risk you giving me away. I'm sorry, for what it's worth," I said, meaning every word. Vittat gave a surprised sort of wiggle.

"You tricked him?"

"I think I'm offended. You didn't think I could do it?"

"The Egg-breaker is a foul creature. Even as a hatchling, he would have been hard to mislead."

"Well, he seemed to buy my story easily enough."

"What lies did you provide to him?"

"That I was a rising Dark Lady, intent on helping him rise to power once more so long as I was given my proper reward?" I said very quickly. I was careful not to look at Vittat for the next few minutes, busying myself with checking over Ginny. She seemed perfectly fine aside from the stunning. I'd wake her from that as soon as my next order of business was dealt with.

"-undeniably foolish! I fear for the day I willingly let you out of my sight!" Vittat was hissing. "What have you promised him?"

"That I would not harm or destroy his diary. I've never seen a piece of magic like it. It's like a piece of him is actually in it. He is a separate entity from the whole now. He spoke of the elder Voldemort as if he were another person. It's like... It's like they weren't even the same soul anymore."

"This is a foul creation, huntress. Why would you swear to not harm it?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't give it to someone who could," I pointed out. "Now. I need to summon the basilisk. Any idea how I would go about doing that?"

Vittat was silent for a long minute as he debated scolding me for longer or helping me get this all done faster. Eventually, he rose up as high as he could, staring ahead deeper into the Chamber.

"Come forth, All-King! A Hunter-Speaker wishes to revel in your ferocity, and a lesser Nest-Lord wishes to pay his deepest respects."

"That was a bit cheesy sounding," I muttered softly to him. Vittat hissed at me angrily, chastisingly. He fell into a smug silence when another voice joined us.

"I've had my fill of children, Egg-breaker. Be gone with you, back to the pit from whence you came." Vittat nodded at me encouragingly to step forward as a massive shape began shifting in the shadows.

"I am no Egg-breaker, All-King. I am..." I was at a loss. How could I introduce myself to such a creature without a worthy name?

"You are but a hatchling..." The shape slipped forward, leaving the shadows and allowing me to see it fully for the first time. I gasped, unable to stop myself.

The basilisk was beautiful. Each of his keeled scales was brilliant emerald in color with the exception of the larger plates running down the basilisk's stomach, which were a dusty silver color. Looking at the creature, I could see exactly why Slytherin picked his house colors.

The serpent himself was gracefully built and I could see, as he slithered closer, how his muscles shifted beneath his scales to move almost silently against the stone floor despite his massive size. And, lastly, I allowed myself to meet the serpent's eyes. All-knowing and unblinking, two large amber eyes were staring back at me, analyzing me with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

"A hatchling," the basilisk noted and I was startled to notice that its voice was far more feminine than I had expected. The basilisk- she- looked then to Vittat. "A hatchling and a once Nest-Lord. Impressive, still. You are still a youth yourself."

"Thank you, my lady," Vittat rose up, twisting his neck to the side in a way that reminded me of the goblins that I'd bared my neck for. It was a gesture of respect, I realized. "The Hunter-speaker's two-leg name is Corinne Wyncrest. She is young but growing into a fine Nest-Lord. One of her Nest-mates is the child that defeated the Egg-breaker many moons ago."

"Ah..." A satisfied hiss escaped the All-King (Queen?). "I was not sad to see him defeated. Twice, now, he has betrayed his Dull-scales-"

"Ancestors," Vittat hissed to me helpfully..

"and set me against the Cair-hatchlings."

"Cair-hatchlings... The students," I realized.

"Aye, young one."

"Wait. Twice now? How old are you?"

"I have waited as so many moons pass, hatchling. So many... I remember when the stones were first brought, the wards first laid, and the first Cair-hatchlings ferried across the dark-water."

"You... you were Slytherin's familiar, weren't you?" I knew that the house emblems were carefully chosen. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were animagi who took on their animal forms as their crest while Ravenclaw and Slytherin mirrored their familiars. Ravenclaw had a raven that was blessed with speech and Slytherin had...

"I was. In that time I was known by Peridae." At her name, I almost lost my balance as surge of impressions flooded me. Nights spent hunting beasts none other would dare approached. Eggs laid and hatched. Other worlds seen and explored to their fullest. Then, softer images. Moments lying in the sun. Waiting patiently as a man prepared a charm to dilute her eyes' powers. Playfully fighting with a massive lion, careful to only give dry bites.

My eyes watered from the exchange and, as I found Peridae's eyes again, I knew that she was aware of what I'd felt.

"That is what it means to be hunter, young one," Peridae said almost comfortingly. "And you too shall soon know your true-name... But you have not said what you wanted. None have merely seeked me out. What do you look for?"

"You've been used against the students again by Voldemort. Is there anything I can do to prevent that from happening again?"

"Salazar had a spell to allow me control over the gift but I have no doubt that it was lost to time. His libraries have been ransacked by his descendants, the tomes scattered. I have no solution."

"Couldn't I just take you away? You could hide away in the forest or even leave the grounds. You can be free again," I offered. Peridae looked at me with sad eyes.

"Things are not that easy, young one. What sanctuaries that once existed have likely fallen to ruin. Even I would face enemies I couldn't face in the forest... I am old, hatchling. So old... I have lived long, especially without my companion, but my longevity was curse as well as gift. The only way to ensure the students' safety from me is with my death."

"What?!" Vittat and I both hissed in shock. Peridae nodded, breathing deeper.

"My time approaches in any case. No All-King should live as long as I have and the snakes in my Nest have long been driven away... Leave this place and command for the doors to never open again. Allow me to pass and report to the Headmaster that I can never be used against the Cair-hatchlings again."

I swallowed hard.

"But what if you're needed to defend the Cair-hatchlings again?" I asked slowly. "There are more dangers than Voldemort in this world. And wouldn't I be able to help you maintain your freedom?"

"You might, but hatchling lives are what exists on that gamble. I shall not risk it..."

"So you're just going to fade away?" I asked, angry. Once again, Voldemort seemed to be screwing something up. Now, because of him, this gorgeous creature was content to die.

"Cor," Vittat hissed quietly to me, sad but accepting. "It is the All-King's wish. This is not your place to argue." But I couldn't leave well enough alone.

"Is there nothing left for you in this world, Peridae?"

"I have seen all that I need to see, hatchling. Stay true to your Dull-scales, young huntress, and I shall be content to rejoin Salazar at last."

Peridae looked into my eyes once more and I was bombarded with more images and feelings. So much darkness and loneliness... Only short bursts of light whenever a speaker found the doors, then shame as each speaker lost their way, as they spat upon their dull-scales. Shame and anger, pain and loss. Regret and acceptance. My mouth dried immediately and I looked down in shame.

"I understand, my lady. I... will not let you down." I went to turn away, only to freeze as I felt a chill pulse through me. Peridae was glaring past me towards Ginny, still stunned on the damp floor. Tom's diary lay abandoned beside her frozen body and I immediately understood.

"Bring me the Egg-breaker's diary, hatchling..."


	12. Chapter 12

"I arrived just as the basilisk attempted to throw off Tom's influence. My presence allowed her to shift between the loyalty of the two speakers. I watched her destroy this book, and this wraith of a boy sort of... fell apart. There... there was so much screaming." I calculated an uncomfortable glance to the floor before allowing my eyes to return to the elderly headmaster's.

... It is a remarkable story, Miss Wyncrest." A remarkable story that he didn't seem to buy.

"It is the truth." The heavily edited truth, but a half-truth was better than the total farce I had intended on feeding to the headmaster.

"So you arrived at the chamber in time to see the destruction of the diary... You spoke with the basilisk, who insisted that you slay her so that she couldn't be used against the students once more. And, all the while, you were immune to her gaze due to your relation to Slytherin."

"That was what the basilisk told me."

"So how did you attempt to slay her?"

"There was no need. She was near death when I came upon her. She breathed her last just before Ginny woke up."

"And you are quite sure that there is nothing else you wish to tell me?" The words forced a memory to the front of my mind, when Dumbledore had asked me the same thing earlier in the term. He had said I reminded him of one of his past students.

I had a feeling that I knew _exactly_ who I reminded him of. I couldn't afford him peace of mind if he couldn't allow me the same.

"There is something, sir... When Hermione and I were researching the chamber, trying to find ways to make the Corps' practical lessons most valuable, we stumbled across records of Moaning Myrtle's death... You were a professor at that time, weren't you?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"The records said Tom Riddle was the one to drive the beast who killed Myrtle from the castle, earning him an award for special services to the school, but it was his name on the diary... Who is he, Headmaster? How could he do something so monstrous?"

Guilt. That was the emotional response I was going for. I wanted Albus Dumbledore to feel guilty and ashamed that he deigned to compare me to the murdering lunatic that had just been outsmarted by a second year.

Dumbledore's eyes saddened, losing their sparkling light.

"I don't know, my dear." It wasn't enough for me to be satisfied.

"I'm afraid," I said as timidly as I could manage. "The other students... they're _scared _of me now. I don't want to be that. I don't want to turn into _him_."

"You won't," Dumbledore promised. When I finally turned to leave his office, I held back a smirk. He wasn't promising me; he was promising _himself_.

I should have known. Facing Voldemort? Did it last year, no sweat. Meeting a basilisk face-to-face? Piece of cake. Sitting at a table in an abandoned classroom while a handful of kids tore me to bits? Now that one hurt.

"Completely foolish-"

"Total Gryffindor!-"

"-Could have died-"

"-Reckless."

"What would your mum think?"

I wondered absently to myself if Voldemort had ever had to deal with _concern_. I wasn't too partial to it, myself.

"For the last time, I. Am. Fine," I said as firmly as I could. "Now hush and let me talk. I've called you all here for an important reason, after all."

"We're all ears, your ladyship," Blaise said with a salute. I rolled my eyes.

"I can't make Dumbledore suspicious by shrinking back from the next step in our general plan. Our practicals have gained popularity and, now that the suspicion of attack is gone, we can resume charging for lessons. We've tried working with the inter-house dueling and it has fallen apart, even if I suspect that it was mostly Lockhart's meddling that corrupted the club."

"Bloody git," Ron grumbled, getting more than one appreciative nod from members of the Corps. Hermione only sighed.

"I still feel kind of bad... I know he was a fraud and a generally awful person, but I don't think he really deserved Azkaban," Hermione murmured.

"Eh, he'll get out in a year or two," I shrugged, not caring too much. Lockhart being locked up didn't help Francis recover his sanity, even if it made it a little easier to swallow. "Now that the Wyncrest family is formally allied with the Greengrass, Steighan, and Longbottom families, we can start meeting again outside of school with less suspicion."

"Have you thought at all about Draco?" Daphne asked me quietly. I nodded slowly, grimacing.

"I have. Being a confirmed descendant of Slytherin has only made Lord Malfoy more eager and I'm running out of options, as much as I hate to admit it."

"What if you get yourself into another contract? Lord Malfoy knows better than to contend a pre-existing contract," Steph recommended rationally.

"The goal is to avoid getting hitched, I believe," Ron said with a little exasperation. Steph scoffed softly before explaining in more depth.

"Not every betrothal contract ends in marriage. Each is worded and conditioned differently. The only issue with a contract with the Malfoy family is that they are too shrewd to leave a loophole. If someone were to _intentionally_ leave a loophole, though..."

"You are becoming more and more Slytherin each day, Steph." She actually blushed at my comment.

"Of course!" Hermione said with a snap of her fingers. "And you've even got your pick of the litter, so to speak."

"I'm sorry, what are you all on about?" Ron asked, lost.

"A false contract, binding the heiress to the Wyncrest family with either House Potter or House Longbottom," Blaise explained to Ron. "A contract to either of us wouldn't seem realistic enough to fend Malfoy off. You're too far from the title and I'm well... My family's not quite as fashionable."

"So, boys, who will it be?" Daphne asked sweetly, looking at both Neville and Harry who both got very red at once.

"Wow, I didn't realize I was that disgusting," I remarked dryly. Both boys sputtered indignantly, quick to say something but I was too busy laughing. "Relax. I'm not actually marrying either of you. This is a political play. So, _gang_, focus. Pros and cons of either match."

"The Potter name has a lot behind it after the last war. It would also be easier to assimilate with the Wyncrest name as the Potters weren't a strict patriarchy like the Longbottom line. It would also be a good shift in the Wyncrest name towards the light, as you're fairly neutral even now. That would help ease off some tension in the school with the purebloods and half-bloods in the know," Daphne listed off.

"On the other hand, she and Neville have known each other all their lives. A betrothal contract between them would be less of a surprise. And the Longbottom line is also decidedly Light," Hermione recalled. Daphne shook her head.

"It is, but the Longbottom family still has a regent. If a match were proposed between Longbottom and Wyncrest, it would be Augusta Longbottom in negotiations, who would drive a hard bargain. Also, it would be unusual for a betrothal contract to be made after all these years between them. Most betrothal contracts are made a birth if the two are to know each other through childhood, so as to make the transition more natural."

"You're forgetting that a contract works both ways," Steph chimed in. "It's not just the boys that bring their name to the table, especially since the Wyncrest family has been matriarchal since its rising. The Wyncrest name is well known in accordance to the Longbottom name in recent history but we can't forget that Lady Armynth is also descended from the House of Lowe."

"Very true," Daphne murmured.

"Is she? I never knew that," Neville finally managed to squeak.

"What does that mean?" Ron asked, desperately lost.

"Longbottom and Lowe, not for long," Luna said in a singsong voice.

"Longbottoms and Lowes aren't very well known to get along. Even if it's a distant relation, it does exist," Daphne said with a hum. "I guess that settles it."

"Not necessarily," Hermione shot back. "Cor's godmother was Neville's mum. Doesn't that mean that they can get along well enough?"

"It's... complicated," I eventually said for Neville's benefit. It wasn't my place to comment on why no one in my family had really spoken to Neville's parents in years. "Either way, we can't decide anything right now. Harry needs to be legally emancipated and Neville needs to reassert himself into his studies if anyone is to believe a betrothal contract. We have one other matter to deal with."

"And what would that be, Serpent-Tongue?" Daphne said with mock-reverence. When I raised an eyebrow at the name, she shrugged playfully. "That is what Slytherin was called. I think it fits you rather well. Corrine Serpent-Tongue."

"_**Serpent-Tongue... Serpent-tongue,**_" Vittat repeated carefully from where he sat in the middle of the table. "_**It is a decent name, I suppose. It is a translation, though. The true name is ouro-stah. Though I suppose the proper name would be cole-stah, as you are a huntress."**_

I froze, halfway through a retort to Daphne. I turned my gaze to the python sharply, desperately.

"_**Say that again."**_

"_**What? Ouro-stah? Or Cole-stah?"**_

There it was.

"Colestah," I repeated aloud. "_**Colestah."**_ Each time I said the word sent a shiver through me and Vittat stirred with excitement.

"What did I just miss?" Daphne asked, turning to Harry for translation. I glanced towards Harry to see his jaw had fallen open.

"_**Your hunter-name has been found, young Colestah."**_

"You aren't going to believe this, Daphne, but I think it fits Cor a lot better than you expected," Harry said a little sheepishly.


	13. Chapter 13

I wish I could say that my life went through this total reversal and everything was brilliant and beautiful after I found my hunter-name but, for the most part, nothing changed. I had the same problems I'd always had and, to my displeasure, they were more pressing than ever.

_Mama,_

_I have found a solution to the Malfoy situation. It may leave a bitter taste for a while but I have decided that the only way to escape betrothal is to enter into it. I have spoken with my friends and we have come to an amicable solution. Please do not worry; I truly believe that this is the easiest path._

_After much discussion, Harry and I have decided that a match, even a false match, between us would be least outrageous. Obviously one that leaves a loophole would be preferable to both parties._

I paused in writing the letter and grimaced. It was neither the first nor the last draft I would write but never send as I tried to find the right words to tell Mama that her little bird was being caged, even for a little while. A contract with Harry was far more acceptable than one with Draco, though, so I would create it gladly.

It was still a dangerous game, of course. Leaving a betrothal contract was scandalous, another reason I couldn't allow it to be Neville on the other end. If I walked out on an engagement with a boy who was already perceived to be a near-failure, it would only ruin his image more. I couldn't allow that. Harry was much harder to pin a rumor onto, especially since the world seemed to fall at his feet. If anything, _I_ would be more damaged by leaving the contract.

"What are you doing?" I grumbled to myself.

"That's a good question." I jumped at the new voice.

"Bass!"

"It's nearly one in the morning, Cor. What are you doing up?" He glanced down at the paper beneath my hand and I quickly balled it up.

"I... I'm writing to Mama," I answered truthfully. He glanced wryly at the stack of discarded letters in the bin.

"Having trouble finding the right words?"

"Increasingly so," I mumbled. Sebastian hovered over me for a moment before frowning and taking a seat across from me.

"You know that you can speak to me, right? It is not a weakness to rely on your allies."

"What happened to 'never ask for advice'?" I quoted with a soft smile. He shrugged.

"Who said anything about asking for advice? If I'm shoving my nose into your business, though, it might not hurt to take my word as gospel." I cracked a smile and Bass grinned, satisfied with himself. "See? Now spill, little bird."

The endearment made me pause. Mama wasn't the first one to call me 'little bird,' it had been Bass, when I was six or seven. Bass, Damien, and I had snuck out to the yard one day and Bass had smuggled out his broomstick. He had only been twelve and it had been his first broom, his reward for making the Slytherin team as a second-year. He and Damien had been taking turns on it, never letting me take a try. When I started to throw a tantrum, Damien got annoyed and decided to stop playing but Bass only told me he didn't want me to fly because I'd make him look bad. I'd laughed but then he put me on the broom and I had felt so alive and free. Since then, I'd been Bass' little bird, even if Mama had taken rights to the endearment as soon as she'd heard it.

"You haven't called me that in months," I murmured. Bass raised an eyebrow.

"Would you prefer if I started?"

"No. Weasley would never let me live it down." I didn't clarify which Weasley and Bass chuckled, the sound warm and soothing. "I'm entering a betrothal contract."

Bass' change in body language was startling. One second, he was open and friendly. The next, frigid and unnerved.

"Lucius Malfoy has been pressuring Mama more and more," I said when Bass remained silent. "I've thought a lot about it and I've decided that the safest move would be to enter a contract with someone who wants it just as much as I do."

"What are you saying?" he asked, his eyes flashing dangerously. I smiled wryly.

"I'm not getting betrothed to Draco, if that's what you're worried about."

"Who?" he asked tightly. I vaguely recalled Marcus describing Bass as overprotective. As my brother's fists clenched and unclenched, I could see how that was an apt description.

"Harry."

At once, Bass eased. His hands fell loosely to his side, his shoulders relaxing. A disbelieving smile found its way to his lips, making his jaw seem softer than it was.

"What? That's it?" I asked with a small pout.

"I can beat Potter up with fewer political repercussions," he explained gleefully. I smacked his shoulder playfully.

"Play nice. That's my fiance you're talking about," I shot back, revelling in the scowl that appeared like clockwork on Bass's face. When I started laughing, he fell back into the easy smile that he lets so few people really see. "Thank you..."

"For what?"

"For..." I shrugged. "I don't know. Just _thank you_."

"Well, you're welcome... Now go get some sleep, young lady. Can't have your fiance seeing you with bags under your eyes." I launched a pillow at him and he caught it with practiced ease before lobbing it back at me.

"I hate you!" I growled, trying to hide my smile. Bass obviously saw through it and pelted me with another pillow.

"Love you too, little bird!"

End of term crept up on me faster than I would have liked. Despite DADA classes being cancelled, on account of Lockhart having been arrested by the Hit wizards for illegal usage of memory charms, and Dumbledore cancelling all other exams for no apparent reason, Hermione was furious that she'd missed so much time that could have been spent studying. As a result, all of the Corps was forced into this or that abandoned classroom to play catch up when we should have been enjoying the rare sunshine. On the bright side, spending so much time inside had made it easy for Harry to approach Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall was as reasonable as ever and more than willing to help Harry petition for legal emancipation. A few tears, a few upset glances, and she had totally melted, according to Ron, Hermione, and Neville who had gone along with him for 'moral support.'

With Harry well on his way to building a case for legal emancipation and the rest of the Corps getting into good shape for the summer break, everything was going well. Or, at least _mostly_ well.

It was upsetting that the Quidditch Cup had been cancelled and the house cup was a bit of a joke. It was a narrow loss to Gryffindor but a loss nonetheless because of Hermione's "tenacity and formidable intelligence in the face of great danger." It was very conveniently ignored that she knew what sort of monster to look for because of the clues I had to offer her. In the grand scheme of things, though, the House Cup was rather low on my priorities.

As the school year drew to a close, Daphne and I attempted to teach Harry what we knew of high society, with Neville occasionally there to throw in a more male perspective. His lessons didn't go as well as Hermione's did but, after a summer of practicing, he should be competent enough that he doesn't embarrass either of us when news of the contract comes out.

My _real_ concern was explaining the betrothal to Mama.


	14. THIS IS IMPORTANT, I PROMISE

Hey, there!

I know that this isn't an official chapter so this technically shouldn't be up here but I need input from you—the people that actually seem to read my work for reasons I can't figure out.

Corinne Wyncrest is a powerful figure. When she's older, she'll be _extremely_ powerful, both magically and politically. I'll admit that she's a little OP but, to survive and be worth mentioning in the HP universe and in the universe I've created for her within HP, most everyone has a trait that makes them shine.

My question to you is this: who do _you_ think is man (or woman) enough to step up and be her equal? Who do you, the readers, want to see her eventually stumble her way into a relationship with. This will be a slow and arduous task of having my little Slytherin fall in and out of love (I love some drama every now and then) so don't expect she'll wake up, realize she loves so-and-so, and they get married the next month. Not gonna happen.

I want you to know that not everyone in the HP universe is fair game. I'm not sticking her with Snape, for example. He's her head of house. It'd be weird and I'm not budging on that one. Other no-nos would be Tom Riddle/Voldemort. She's made it pretty clear that she's not going down that particular evil path and, with the diary destroyed, all of the remaining soul-bits are a little too old for my innocent-ish little third year.

On the other hand, most people outside of the HP universe are fair game. If you give me a character from a story I know and like, I might make an OC based on that character and let that particular drama unfold in its own weird twist.

Basically, if it's not drastically out of character for the character progression I've charted for cor, I can do it. For simplicity's sake, let's say the age line is ten years older than Cor and three years younger—anyone between Bill Weasley and Dennis Creevey is fair game. Girl, boy, centaur, whatever you want. Pick predictable or weird and I'll take a look at my options.

Note: having the most votes to one character will _not_ ensure that that is the character that ultimately winds up with Cor. Because almost _anyone_ is up for grabs, I'm relying on you to do something. Either PM more or put in a review at this story and let me know who you think Cor should end up with. Pick up to five characters and try to tell me why you think it'd be a good/funny/dysfunctional match. Even if you just think they'd look nice in a photograph together, let me know why. It might influence my feelings toward the pair.

The fun is in reading the journey, not the destination, so get voting!

(Just in case someone decides to be persnickety and flag this chapter as an A/N, here's an itty-bitty one-shot for you!)

* * *

The train compartment was silent for a long moment as my eyes measured my company. There were three other will-be first years in the compartment and I could readily identify each of them as future Slytherins: Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. Out of the four of us, I was the only unknown.

Information. I needed information. These were not people to make enemies of.

Daphne Greengrass. She and I had grown up together, but were not close. She and I were both heiresses to old families, though her title was likely to be transferred to her husband when they married. Greengrass was a patriarchal family and, unless stipulated otherwise in a betrothal contract, it would continue to be so. She was intelligent and charming, two traits needed to survive in high society, but her name didn't carry much weight. Her family had money and they were an old family but they had lost many connections by actively fighting in the war against Grindelwald and lost even more by remaining neutral in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She was tenacious and decisive but, ultimately, would likely be a follower of the strongest in her friend group.

Blaise Zabini. Not a member of an old family but he had money. His mother knew how to marry expertly and, though she'd only just moved on from the last husband, it was clear to everyone that she was a black widow. She was a beautiful woman, as I knew from the many social gatherings she had stalked, but I would be rather worried for anyone who caught her eye. Blaise was innocent of the scheme from what I knew. He was a sociable boy and, for the most part, wasn't hard to make an enemy out of. With his mom courting a different flavor each week, he probably felt it best to remain unconcerned. With his easy-going personality, he was likely to bridge friend groups and smooth relations. From what Bass told me of Slytherin, he'd need all his charm to survive.

Theodore Nott. I didn't have much on him, admittedly. He was notoriously shy despite his father throwing him into the best of circles. Lord Nott wasn't a man to be trifled with, especially given the suspicions surrounding his activities in the war against the Dark Lord, but he was very keen on maintaining his family's name and power. After the death of his mother, the younger Nott had seemed content to shrink away from society. As a loner, Theo shouldn't be affected too much from his house standing. He ignored others by choice rather than necessity and, when his father passed him the lordship, it will only be those who befriended him by choice that earn his favor.

It bothered me that I had so much information and experience with these people but absolutely nothing to talk about. Daphne hated Quidditch, Blaise knew nothing about potions, and Theo had hardly said two words to me since he had sat down. I couldn't ask about Hogwarts houses as every one of them was likely to be sorted into Slytherin and, after saying such, we'd fall into silence again. I needed an avenue of conversation, not _chit chat_.

At this rate, I wouldn't even be able to be sorted into Hufflepuff, where friendship was lifted on a pedestal.

My mouth was dry as I fiddled with the seat cushion, distracting myself unsuccessfully.

I didn't need friends. I needed allies. If I didn't get allies fast, I was dead in the water.

"So..." I forced my hesitation to be brief. I couldn't let them think I was fishing for something to say, even if I was. "What subjects are you guys most interested in?"

"Transfiguration," Daphne said, offering me a lifeline. I took it gratefully, even if I refused to show it in my eyes, and immediately jumped into a conversation about our upcoming school schedules.

Daphne Greengrass... She might not be very well connected anymore, but she's already made one good move in my book. I'll have to return that favor one day.


End file.
